Journal Journeys
by Romantic Nerd
Summary: After William reveals to Julia that he has a journal to explain an "odd" comment he made to Emily after Lillian had died, the couple share their journal entries about when William visited Julia in Buffalo. They establish a custom through which they will occasionally share their experiences of the past by reading to each other their thoughts from their journals.
1. Chapter 1

Journal Journeys

Sitting next to him at their small table in the Windsor House Hotel during dinner, Julia asked, "William, you said something I found to be … a little odd, to Emily. What did you mean by, 'You and I both know that Lillian's journey was a beautiful one. You will grieve for her here, but do not fret for her – she is well'? … It seemed that you and Emily had some shared experience – one that was exclusive …"

One thing led to another and William ended up digging out his journal and finding the entry about his experience while he was dead, before Emily brought him back to life. He handed the battered, brown record of his inner thoughts to Julia to read. Sitting next to him on the couch, Julia was speechless for a moment after she read it– there was so much to take in. Not only had William died, but Emily was a member of a group that experimented with their own deaths – even had a member of the group stay dead, … and William had a journal. It seemed that this last realization was what astonished her the most. Upon reflection, however, she decided that she should not have been surprised that he wrote down his deepest thoughts, for she knew he had them and that he seemed quite capable of reflecting on them as well. His private, deep nature, along with his, sometimes revealed, acute mastery of expressing thoughts with language would lend themselves to such endeavors. Her curiosity was piqued and she wanted to read more – much, much more. But the matter at hand was death, and so she knew they would need to linger here a bit longer.

"When was this William? … Was I around … to see, umm, to see your reaction to dying and surviving it to tell the story?" she asked.

William reached up to take one of her curls in his fingers and with his warm, big, and irresistibly gorgeous eyes holding hers he answered, an air of sadness floating in with his breath, "No … I was quite alone then. You were married … gone. Life consisted of placing one foot in front of the other, moving forward as best as I could without you." He wrinkled up his face, implying that he had to accept what was – "It was what it was."

Looking back down at the journal, she considered what she had read and asked, "How do you think this experience affected you? Are you less afraid of dying?"

"I guess so … but the few times since then that I have faced death, my instincts to fight it still seemed just as strong as ever," he answered.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I'd be devastated if I lost you and I want to know that you will do everything in your power to stay around… for me if for nothing else," Julia said. She placed her hand to caress his cheek and then kissed him.

William felt the need to temper, what had sometimes been interpreted as, his controlling behavior with his desire for the same thing when it came to Julia's life. He said, "As is the same when it comes to my concern for you." He shifted their positions on the couch, placing Julia beneath him, and kissed her. Their kissing grew in intensity. Buttons were undone, clothes slid across skin until it was freed, kissing the air. The lovemaking was slow and tender. There was a cherishing of each other expressed during this kind of passion that always served to strengthen their bond, solidify their love for one another.

Content and happy, lying together on their tiny couch in a tangle of partially removed clothing and arms and legs, Julia's mind drifted back to William's journal. As she stroked his chest, she said, "You know William, I am quite intrigued by your journal … I would _really, really_ like to read more."

"Perhaps, … some excerpts," he said, reminding both of them of Julia's response many years ago to William's request to read the journal she had written while in Prague.

"How about now? She said, pressing forward before he could say no she continued, "Can you think of anything you wrote that would reveal something new about our relationship … something I don't already know … perhaps about our history, and maybe telling more about your experience of it?" she pushed.

William released a soft chuckle and then raised an eyebrow at her. "I believe there are quite a few entries that would meet that requirement," he answered with a small, shy smile curling up at the corners of his mouth. He lifted himself up onto one of his elbows creating space for her to roll a bit under him again. Their eyes lined up. "Umm, you know Julia … uh … You won't read anything without my permission will you?" he asked. She gave him a feigned insulted look. He continued, "You can sometimes be impulsive … I mean in many ways it's quite endearing and something I love about you, but … I wouldn't want you to read it without my knowledge …"

"Hmm, … I must admit I am tempted …" she teased, provoking William to raise his eyebrow at her again. "But, if you really don't want me to, then I won't," she promised. He seemed so vulnerable. She added, "Don't worry William. I promise." Then she squeezed out from under him and sat up, "So …"

William sat up next to her, sighed, and said, "Let's get into our pajamas first," and then went into their bedroom, retrieved his blue pajama bottoms and her white nightgown. They covered themselves in their most comfortable clothing, piled up the day's clothes to deal with later, and then sat back down together on the couch. Looking his wife in the eye, he reached up and tucked his hand under her ear and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. Then he turned his attention to the journal and asked, "Any time in particular?"

The possibilities seemed endless to her, when they first met, when he was courting Enid Jones, or while they were trying to get Darcy to grant her a divorce. And then there were all the heart-breaking times too – like when she left for Buffalo and when she married Darcy. She thought about it. Wanting to get as much out of it as possible, she decided to risk feeling saddened by learning about what he had felt when she had left him and said, "Well, I am quite curious about the times we weren't together – like when I was in Buffalo."

William wrinkled up one side of his face and sighed. "Umm, I wasn't very happy then Julia. Are you sure that's what you want to read about?" he asked. She nodded and William reached over to lift the journal up off of the table. He turned quickly to a particular page and said, "You wanted something that you didn't know? …"

Her voice low, she said, "Yes," She thought, _"I wonder if he knows how much his trust in me touches me? I must be careful here."_ She turned her body to better face him and pulled her legs up onto the couch.

He went to hand her the journal, but instead she asked him to read it to her – William's thoughts, William's words, in William's voice.

He read:

" **It seems that ascertaining the reason she left may be unfeasible. There are so many contradictions. She wanted to work as a healer so she had to leave… but she had said that it was, "not just about her work," right before Higgins called us to a crime scene.**

 **She said it was because she knew I wanted a family and she could not have children. She thought I'd stop loving her because of that – … Oh, how impossible it has been to stop loving her.**

 **But, she had revealed something more by what she stopped herself from saying. It plagues me every day. She had started, "You know how rarely opportunities come along for a woman in my field. I can't ignore them on the off chance that** _ **you**_ **…" … That I what? If I could only figure that out. It was something I could do, or not do,** **and it would have made her stay** **. Perhaps it could even get her back… Perhaps it was, "… on the off chance that I would marry her." She could not have known I was saving to buy a ring – a ring worthy of her? When we rode together in the carriage she said, "Because no one is offering me anything here." Was that a veiled statement about a marriage proposal? For the third time since she left, I sit here staring at this ring. I could take it to Buffalo, tell her I love her, that I can't live without her, ask her to marry me. All I need is the courage… the willingness to risk the hurt and devastation of being turned away…"**

 _(As William read, Julia thought_ " _This is so much more like him really – analytical, cerebral. He's writing about his thoughts, his use of logic to solve a problem. The one about dying was so much more emotional. .. And, oh, how he struggles. And he loved me - He never stopped loving me._ ")

 _(William turned the page and continued)_

" **She sent a telegram. She needs my help. I'm bringing the ring… Hopefully my bravery as well…**

 _(Julia felt herself gasp just a little. She thought, "He was going to propose to me when he came to Buffalo – He was going to ask me to marry him – in person … months after he had failed to send the telegram with his proposal! Her mind rushed back and then ahead. She knew what was to come and already felt the hopeless sadness welling up in her chest.)_

 **We walked together, down the steps in front of her hospital. It seemed like good-bye. I had the ring in my hand, waiting, hidden in my pocket. My mind raced so. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my hands shaking – knees too. Only a couple of inches – I just needed to lift the ring up, then there would be no turning back**.

 _(As William read, it seemed his heart really was beating faster. His jaw was tight, nervousness was creeping in.)_

 **Through the buzzing in my ears I heard her… open up, offer me an in. She said, "It's done my heart good to see you again…"**

" _ **Ask her now,**_ **" I thought. And I did it! I lifted the box out of my pocket, I said I agreed with her and I took her hand…**

 _(William leaned back, his posture changing, his look defeated, and he sighed)_

 **I can't remember what she said, how it happened, but the ground fell out from under me. She was telling me 'no' – there was never going to be an 'us'… I remember now, she said, "We can't renew our relationship." Stunned, just stunned – like when she told me she was sterile. My silence cost me then. I would not be silent now.**

" **What's to stop us?" Perhaps I really wanted to know – to know why she didn't love me anymore. What had changed? How I had lost her? It was a pointless question really – it was already done. She was gone – I just hadn't seen it yet.**

 _(William became choked up as he read, but he continued)_

 **She said she loved another – was engaged to be married. I had made wrong assumptions … thought she still loved me … thought she** **ever** **loved me.**

 _(Tears flowed down Julia's face. She was glad she wasn't reading – She would not have been able to see the writing on the page.)_

 **I was so shattered I am surprised I had the strength to ask, but I guess I needed to know because it might help me figure out what was wrong with me that led her to choose another if I knew who the other was, so I asked.**

 _(William sighed again. Tears were welling up in his eyes – only his long lashes holding them back.)_

 **Dr. Darcy Garland – I guess that said it… wealthy … professional, like her. I was outclassed, probably never really had a chance. "** _ **Don't cry! Don't you dare cry**_ **," I urged myself. Then I felt the ring – It was still in my hand. She hadn't seen it – Didn't know I was going to ask. If nothing else, I could get away without embarrassing myself. I congratulated her … them. She wrapped her arms around me,** **probably for the last time ever** **,**

 _(Now William's tears glistened his cheeks)_

… **And we hugged good-bye. Over her shoulder I found my gaze stuck on the ring – this worthless, worthless ring.**

 **I made it away from her before the tears overtook me. I couldn't get in the carriage quickly enough. The driver had to notice my crying, but it could not be helped. In the carriage, alone, I wept. Once back at my motel, the driver said he was, "sorry for my loss." "** _ **How could he know**_ **," I thought. Seeing my confusion he explained that often people leave the Children's Hospital in tears – losing a child must be the worst thing that happens to people. "** _ **Perhaps,"**_ **I thought** _ **, "… I had lost my children the day she told me she couldn't have children … Worse things do happen, I can't really believe I've lost her too – lost the only woman who ever really knew me, the only woman who ever would.**_

William slowly closed the journal and placed it on the table. He turned to look at her, wiping a tear from his cheek. Her eyes were down, but he could tell she was crying. She was looking at her hands – her rings.

"Oh my William … You're right, I didn't know you were going to propose when we stood together on those steps. She shook her head, then lifted it to catch his eyes, "It hurts so," she said putting her hand to her heart, her crying growing in intensity as she saw his tear-soaked face.

William was unable to answer. He nodded and then pushed out a, "Yes."

He opened his arms to her and she curled up into them. They cried together for a time. When the tears had run their course, William asked, "What were you going to say that day in the morgue? … on the off chance that I – what?"

She adjusted her position to rest her head on his chest, "I wasn't planning on ever telling you I couldn't have children, William. That's why I had to stop. I was going to say "…on the off chance that you would still love me even if you knew I was unable to bear your children."

"Oh," he said. "Well, of course now you know that I do," he said, close to her ear. She shook her head, let the comfort of his words sink in.

Julia added, "I knew you were getting ready to propose. It was the reason I was in such a rush to leave. I knew if you proposed, I would have to tell you about my sterility. My heart couldn't take the thought of having you reject me in such a permanent way as I believed you would if you knew."

"But, if I proposed after you told me, that would have convinced you that you were wrong – that I could … did … love you despite our not being able to have children?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose," she responded."

He leaned forward and placed his hand on her chin. He turned her to face him more directly. "Tragic," he nearly whispered, "I just missed your train – caught sight of the red caboose pulling away. I almost sent that telegram … Then as we stood on the steps in Buffalo – the ring only inches from your finger," he shook his head. His expression changed, he wrinkled up one side of his face and said, "Well, I guess the fifth time's the charm," he winsomely joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Julia dropped her eyes to the rings on her left finger, as did William. "William, would you have been willing to move to Buffalo?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I would have. I had hoped that you would have been so happy to marry me that you'd have been willing to move back to Toronto, but Detective Callahan had said he would put in a good word for me with the Buffalo Police Department if need be," William explained.

"Oh, I see," she said. "You know William, I didn't think you would have…" she said. She sat up straight and excitedly said, "Let me get my journal, I'll share what was going on in my head." Julia darted away and quickly returned with her journal. William had seen it in her dresser drawer and on a few other occasions when she worked in the morgue a long time ago. It was so much more … feminine than his journal, covered in bright and delicate flowers as opposed to the solid brown cover of his journal. He had controlled the urge to read it. Now, he found himself very glad that he had done so.

She sat back down next to him and flipped through the pages, trying to find the one she wanted. "Here," she said. She rotated her position to better face him on the couch.

She read:

" **What's to stop us?" … Such a good question William. Does your asking it mean you love me … even now, after you know the sacrifice you would have to make to choose me?**

 _(William, sitting next to her, shook his head 'yes.' Julia sighed and read on.)_

 **He wanted to be with me again … to start again. Why else would he ask this? Why else would he have taken my hand, looked at me that way?**

 **He looked like he'd been punched in the stomach when I told him of my … engagement … to Darcy. I feel so ashamed of that word and how it must have looked in his eyes – engaged to another so soon after I left him, so soon after telling him I loved him but knew there was no place for me in his life.**

 _(Julia shook her head 'no' as she read.)_

 **He was hurt, yes, I'm sure he must have been. It must have stunned him that I moved on so quickly. It was fast – too fast really… A reaction to my loss, I guess? Once again a way for me to take control, to cope with my loss of his love as best I could.**

 **Oh my god, I think he still loves me. How can it be … after I left him … after I broke his heart?**

… **But … Wouldn't a man like William tell me, tell me if he loved me so much as to give up so much to be with me, give up any chance at being a father… And no better father than William Murdoch would there ever be. Wouldn't he tell me he loved me … stop me from marrying another? And would he give up even more … leave Toronto, the job he loves so much? I don't think so … But if not, then what did he mean, "What's to stop us?" … Stop us from what? Really, what did he want?**

 **Maybe to visit on weekends? Perhaps he wanted to start up a casual relationship?**

 _(Julia shook her head 'no.')_

… **No, not a man like William Murdoch. There's just nothing casual about him. No, I think he wanted to renew our relationship, with all of the intensity it used to have… with all of the intensity it will always have… if it exists at all.**

 **So … I guess what's stopping us is** _ **me**_ **. I can't believe he really would be alright with spending the rest of his life with me – without fathering children. He may not think so now, but he would resent me. He would regret it. It is too much of a cost. I can't take the chance that he'd end up hating me, unhappy, stuck. No, no matter how much I love him, no matter how much I know I will never love another man but him. No. No I can't let him renew our relationship. I have to let him walk away – Rip the bandage off, get the pain over with. He'll find another eventually. He will be happier without me … and I without him, without the guilt of having cost him the family he wants – he should have. It's for the better.**

 _(Julia sighed, paused. Tears grew)_

 **I will let him walk away – go back to Toronto – without me. Never to be with me again. I will make my life without him. It will be good enough. And he will make his life without me. It will be a better life than the one he could have with me. I will live free of being the one responsible for having imprisoned him. He will live free to be completely happy.**

 _(William was teared-up as well. He shook his head 'no.')_

 **I'll never love another as I have loved him – as I still love him now. Perhaps I always will love him so – but it's a love that** **can't be** **. Oh, how I hope it is not the same for him. Please, please let him be alright … let him be happy. I love him so …**

 _(Julia closed her journal. She put it down on top of his journal on the table.)_

Julia swallowed, pushing herself through the lump in her throat, the ripping pain in her heart, to speak. She said, "William, I'm so sorry… And I'm so thankful that we are together now. I never believed two people could ever be so in love… But, I do still worry about your regretting your choice. I worry about it."

He scooped her up in his arms. Firmly held her face to his and promised her that he was grateful for every day, every moment, he had with her. He was certain he could never have been happier than he was with her. He was grateful to have met her – he knew from the first moment he saw her that she was the one for him. He was right. No regrets, ever. He kissed her. She kissed back.

Eventually Julia pulled away from the kissing and asked, "Do you want to share our thoughts about when we first met!?"

"Oh, Julia, I definitely do," he answered, "But let's take one trip down memory lane at a time, O.K.?" His loving wife agreed. They decided to put their journals away and go to bed.

In bed, they remained pressed together intimately in the darkness, awake, each not wanting to abandon the other to sleep. William asked Julia if she remembered the circus case – the one where the tiger ate the victim. She did.

He told her about Lady Minerva's fortune telling cards and her predictions for his future. He said, his voice sounding mysterious and ominous in the dark, "She was just a good reader of people. I could probably do it." Julia agreed, he probably could. He continued, "She laid out 6 cards – with the 1st she said I had great knowledge which brought me pride. With the 2nd card, that I relied on logic to feel safe except when it contradicted with my religion." Julia chuckled a little. She couldn't see it, but he gave her a somewhat annoyed look. He went on, "I don't remember the 3rd card, but I wrote it down in my journal. I was distracted by my telling her it was just a parlor trick and I wasn't interested in her fortune, and that I wanted her to answer some questions about the tiger case. Then she turned the 4th card – The Lovers, and said, 'You love a woman'. I tried to hide it but failed – of course, I was madly in love with you, but I didn't think anybody knew. Lady Minerva could tell she had hit a nerve. Then the 5th card- The Empress, she said, 'She's your match in every way'. I must admit, the hair stood up on my back and my ears began to ring a little. I had thought those exact same words about you. But, I protested more – and finally the 6th card - The Chariot, with which she said, 'But alas, it seems she's not in your future'… If I were a believer I'd say it predicted your going to Buffalo."

Julia, resting her head on his chest, said, "Her prediction was wrong though – I was in your future – maybe it only predicts near future?"

"Well, actually, there was more. Later she read my fortune again. There was only one card this time. It predicted that I would have the woman I loved in my future but only with great sacrifice," he explained.

"What sacrifice?" Julia asked.

"Lady Minerva didn't say, but, she said not to worry – I would make it… If it were true perhaps the sacrifice was not having children," he offered.

Julia shook her head against his chest, "Yes, that is a big sacrifice, and you have made it, haven't you?"

He rolled her over to cover her with his larger body, took her head in his hands, put his face close to hers and said, "Yes, gladly." He fluttered soft, gentle kisses all over her face and neck, pausing just above her ear to say, "I love you Julia, more than words can say." With that, they each accepted sleep.

Later that night, the sky rumbled as a thunderstorm rolled through. Somewhere far off, the lightning struck – flickering their bedroom. Wondering if the thunder had woken him too, Julia rolled over to face William in their bed and softly asked him if he heard the storm.

"Mmm …," he moaned contentedly, "I love lying in a warm, safe bed, hearing a storm rage on outside. It's even better when I'm in that bed with you." William rolled over to cover her with his body. She could smell him, feel the skin of his bare chest slide against her arms, feel the weight of him hold her down firmly, taking her breath away. His warm breath drifted across her neck, rattled her ear.

The storm outside grew closer, the booms of the thunder and the flashes of the lightening nearly reaching complete alignment as the couple surrounded each other with caresses and kisses.

She felt his aroused state against her thigh. "William, again?" she asked.

He chuckled in her ear.

Julia pushed against him to roll him onto his back. She reached down, slid her hand into his pajamas and stroked him, feeling her own insides melt as she heard him moan, felt him tighten and grow more and more excited. When he could tolerate his urges no more he pulled her up on top of him. She sat up, straddling him, their eye contact glimmering with each flicker from the lightening outside. He lifted her nightgown over her head and let go a gasp as the sight of her gorgeous curves were revealed just as the loud boom of thunder nearly blinded the room. She reached back behind her to release the drawstring on his pajamas and slid them down, removing the barrier between them. She lifted herself above him, torturing each of them as she hovered there for a moment, making them wait just a little longer for the exquisite touch they both longed for. Then she took him in as she slowly lowered herself back down to cover him. Signaling she was ready to relinquish control, she lay down on his chest and kissed him. He rolled her over, tucked her underneath him completely, and brought them both to ecstasy.

As the storm moved away, they clung together in the afterglow. "You know, your penis is like a lust detector," Julia remarked. She continued to her next thought, "It's like the lie detector you made with the blue liquid. What a lovely memory – Did you write about that one William?

"Why yes, milady, I did," he replied.

"Me too!" she said.

William exclaimed, "Well then, perhaps that will be our next journal journey."

"I would like that," Julia said as she burrowed down a little deeper into her husband's chest.

They soon returned to sleep, each looking forward to sharing their upcoming adventures from the past, their journal journeys.


	2. Chapter 2: Lie Detector

Journal Journeys_ Lie Detector

Julia sat on their couch in the Windsor House Hotel drinking a glass of wine and trying to focus on a medical journal. She knew William would be a little late as he was working on a case and was still in the interrogation room with a suspect when she stopped by on her way home. She had ordered and eaten dinner, placing some aside for William when he got home later. She was grateful that it was Friday night. The week had been long and hard, and she was very much looking forward to the weekend. Her gaze was drawn to the two writing journals on the table next to the couch. They remained there, hers over his, since earlier in the week when William and she had shared their entries about when he came to see her in Buffalo. They decided that night to continue sharing entries with each other, and she so very much wanted to know what he had felt, thought, experienced. They had planned on reading to each other about the time William demonstrated the lie detector machine he had made to the entire constabulary, the one with the blue liquid that would rise whenever the person hooked up to it experienced stress in the form of a rise in heart rate and blood pressure. She chuckled to herself, remembering the look of concern in his eyes as he watched the liquid inching up once she had arrived. The devil on her shoulder said that he would read it to her later anyway, so what harm would come of reading it now. Fortunately the angel on her other shoulder had a winning argument – she had promised William she would not read his journal without his permission. Case closed. She sighed and turned her attention once again to her story about the discovery of a "hormone" called secretin. She really did find it to be fascinating.

When she heard his key in the door, she got up to greet him. It must have been raining – he was wet. He held a dozen roses, which accomplished their goal – to make her feel courted, loved. Julia helped him out of his wet clothes and sent him to take a shower. She put the flowers in a vase, changed into her pajamas and poured herself another glass of wine. She intended to be there when William got out of the shower to dry him off, care for him.

She heard the water stop and hurried into the bathroom to open up the towel to him as he stepped out of the tub. She wrapped it around him, reaching up with the edges to dry his face and his hair. Slowly she worked her way down his body. Upon arriving at his pelvis, she noticed a bulge in the towel. She lifted her eyes to meet his. They held eye contact for a moment, sparks of lust flying through the air. He backed her up until her bottom hit the bathroom counter. Somehow she dropped the towel. He took her head in his hands, brought his lips within a millimeter of hers and then hesitated. Although her head was spinning with anticipation, she said, voice breathy and aroused, "William, aren't you hungry for your dinner?"

When he exhaled his warm breath danced across her lips, chin. "I'm hungry, but not for dinner," he said. Then his mouth took in her chin – hard, rough kisses. He explored her face with his mouth, jaw bone, cheeks, lips, neck. She felt her knees going weak and pressed her weight heavier against the counter top. William lifted her nightgown over her head. He stepped back and used both hands to squeeze and press her breasts together to create the most exquisite cleavage. Forcefully with his mouth, he leaned down to ravage each breast, kissing, sucking, nibbling. Julia's moan pushed him over the edge of restraint. He lifted her up by the waist to place her buttocks onto the counter top. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he penetrated her, releasing a moan of his own as he entered her. Urgently, strongly, he thrust into her.

Sensing he was going too fast for her she urged, "Don't stop, William. Don't stop." He slowed the rhythm, focused on her breathing as each breath rumbled across his ear. Each billowing breath grew in intensity as desperation reached its limit in her. Sensing she was close now he picked up the rhythm again and brought them both to release. Dizzy, heads spinning they clung together waiting for the world to settle back down around them.

They re-dressed, William in his pajamas and Julia in her nightgown. As William actually was hungry … _for dinner_ , he ate his now cold dinner with Julia joining him at the table. She reminded him of their plans to read their journal entries about the lie detector to each other. They nestled together on the couch, and, perhaps establishing a tradition for their shared journal journeys, William read his entry first.

 **My deepest emotions were put on public display today. Of course, I did this to myself. I shouldn't have made such a big scene out of testing my pneumograph, but I must admit it is an amazing invention and I really wanted to show it off. Even though I was embarrassed, the machine worked perfectly. Working on the premise that an individual's blood pressure and heart rate rise under the stress of lying, I showed today that it will detect a similar reaction even if the subject doesn't even answer the question. Just posing a question that is stressful to the subject produces an observable response. As a matter of fact, the blue liquid (which rises when the subject's vitals rise – and the subject in this case was me) was rising with merely her entrance into the room. It did not help that it was the first time I was seeing her today and I had another haunting "Julia-dream" last night. This particular dream was so intense that I already knew I was going to have trouble when I came face to face with her today, but I didn't expect it to be in front of the entire constabulary.**

William quickly caught her eye and then looked back at his journal. He paused and then turned the page. He cleared his throat, preparing to continue reading.

Julia reached over to touch his arm, "William," she said, "I'm glad to hear any part of your journal you want to share, but … there was a lot more writing left unread on the previous page, no? What was it – Was it the dream?"

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. He felt his face getting hotter, knew it was likely turning red as he blushed. Now Julia would be relentless. He sighed and said, "Yes."

"Oh William, I so want to hear it. I promise I'll read you some of my dreams too…" she asked.

He acquiesced and turned the page back and read.

 **The dream:**

 **It was the middle of the night and I had been called to a crime scene – a murder. Dr. Ogden was also called. We both showed up, with no one else present, and, likely because we had each been asleep when we got the call, we were both in our pajamas. I wore my red ones and she was in a simple white nightgown. I had already surveyed the area around the body when she arrived.**

" **Good … I guess it's morning … detective," she said. (She looked stunningly beautiful, hair down, barefoot).**

" **Doctor, thank you for coming out at such a late hour," I replied.**

 **She dropped her eyes to the body and said, "I'm always happy to be of help with your investigations, William," her use of my given name causing a stir in me.**

 **She squatted down next to the body and I quickly joined her, crouching by her side. She started to verbalize her thoughts, lividity etc., but I was not able to hear – it sounded far off and blurry. My eyes were stuck on the intoxicating sight they had happened upon – as she leaned forward to investigate the body, the neckline of her gown dropped down from her breasts in response to gravity. There they were, cocooned away and yet accessible from my viewpoint – two round, moldable cream-colored orbs topped off with perfectly erect pink nipples. Oh, how I wanted to touch them, smell them, feel them against my face, taste them.**

 **From far away through the fog I heard it, "Detective … detective," she called.**

 **Slowly I was able to raise my eyes, meet her beautiful blue ones. I felt my eyes beginning to focus.**

" **Detective, you seem a bit distracted … unfocused … on the case. Has something stolen your attention?" she asked, a tinge of teasing detectable in her voice.**

 **Heat surged up into my face. I know I blushed. I know she noticed. When I tried to speak, my voice was scratchy, but I was able to say, "Umm … sorry," and quickly look away.**

 **Deep in my core I felt a surge of fire as she reached out to place her fingers under my chin, turn my face to hers and said, "Don't be William." She took my hand, we stood and she led me, first stepping over the body, and then walking down a dimly-lit corridor, into a candle-lit bedroom. Once inside she stopped at the foot of the bed, turned her body to stand in front of mine, and lifted my hand to wrap it under and around her breast, so warm and pliable. Then she pushed my hand into her. I felt her breast bulge and squeeze up over my fingers, instantly setting my groin ablaze with desire. She stood up a little onto her toes to bring her lips evocatively close to my ear and whispered, breath hot and wispy, "I want you to touch me."**

 **She wrapped her arms around my neck, scratching across the hair at the base of my neck and resting her lips against my neck she said, "I want you to take in my smell ... taste me, William."**

 **I kissed her neck, opened my mouth against it to suck and softly bite it. She moaned in response.**

" **Kiss me," she said, tilting her head, opening up access. This time it was me who moaned as our lips touched – the warm, soft, delicious taste of her driving me wild. She reached down, took my hands and brought them to her hips. Through her nightgown, I felt her supple flesh. My hands could not stay still. They roamed around her back, down to her buttocks.**

 **She stepped in so close I could feel her heart beating against mine. My fingers inched up her gown until her exquisite flesh could be felt under my knuckles. She broke off our kiss, found my ear, tortured me with her voice. "Look at me," she said, stepping back, making visible space between us. I lifted the gown over her head. For a moment, with her arms raised in the air, I saw her curves. My knees felt weak. The nightgown dropped to the floor.**

" **I want to feel your skin against mine," she said as she unbuttoned my pajama top. I lost my breath when she continued her undoing down past the last button of the top to untie my pajama bottoms and drop them to the floor. Oh my god the room spun around as she slid her body up along mine. "I want you inside of me," she said.**

 **I lifted her up, placed my knee on the bed, dropped her down into the soft blankets, held her eyes with mine as I crawled up to cover her. I never wanted anything more than I wanted to be inside of her. She found my ear, said, "Please." I slowly entered her, astonished and emblazoned by her body's yielding, soft, slippery offering. Our bodies moved together, tightening our desires to the point of rupturing. "Deeper," she begged. "Oh yes, William … yes," she declared, driving me to lose control of my desire and pump so strongly and so fast that I felt my body cascade over the edge of ecstasy. I held her tight, as I felt her suck every last drop out of me. It was at this moment that I awoke, hearing my own voice call out her name.**

 **With my heart pounding, out of breath, head ringing, I knew I had never felt so much pleasure before. I'm not sure I would actually survive a real encounter.**

 **Only a few hours later, I was rigged up to the lie detector. Panic set in at her entrance – I could see the blue liquid rising. I knew I would not be able to hide my body's reaction to her presence. Stuck in the center of everyone's gaze, I tried to slow my breath. So quickly it happened – Someone … the Inspector, had passed her the note pad – she was asking the questions. Higgins … it was bloody Higgins who asked the question! … "Is the detective in love," he teased.** _ **"Oh, I am so in love with this woman!"**_ **I thought. The truth burst free out of me for all to see, not in word, but in body. The blue liquid shot up. Her eyes met mine, her mouth slightly agape. Breathtaking … she was breathtaking standing there, shocked by my tortured disclosure. I didn't stand a chance now. I would be putty in her hands … or even worse, my feelings would be unrequited and our extraordinary relationship would now be awkward, strained.**

 **The alert sounded and the placed cleared out. I would have to face her at the crime scene. Oh how I hoped she would pretend nothing happened – business as usual. At least, I think that's what I hoped for.**

He took a long, deep breath and closed the journal. Slowly he lifted his eyes to meet hers.

Julia crawled onto his lap, her nightgown sliding up over her hips as she spread her legs to straddle him. She took his head in her hands, caressing his jaw with her thumbs and kissed him – lots of soft, little kisses, each one landing in a new spot. She kissed and teased his ear before she said huskily in it, "William, if you ever lose your job as a detective, rest assured you could garner a good income writing sexually enticing literature. We will not be reading my journal right now. No, I intend to bed you, William Murdoch."

William raised an eyebrow at her, "Bed me?" he inquired.

"Umm hmm," she replied. She took him by the hand into the bedroom and had her way with him.

Later, at his urging, Julia went to get her journal and brought it back to their bed where she read it to him while he lay his head down on her naked belly.

 **Thinking it was a day like any other, I entered the stationhouse. There was William in the bullpen – tied down to a wheel chair and hooked up to what had to be his latest invention. He was demonstrating it to all the constables, even the Inspector. I quickly figured out the design. The subject – in this case William – had his heart rate and probably blood pressure monitored by the level of a blue liquid in a coiled glass tube. The liquid would rise if the subject's (William's) heart rate and blood pressure rose. Constable Crabtree was asking William questions and William was answering. It seems he had figured that lying would result in a rise in the liquid. It was a brilliant idea. The way William's innovative and bright mind worked never ceased to amaze me. In my case these qualities seemed to work like an aphrodisiac – I was smitten, and I felt my body reacting to just the sight of him showing off his new machine.**

 **Suddenly I noticed it – his discomfort. He looked so … worried as his eyes darted back and forth between the blue liquid in the tube and me. Then it struck me. He was worried that his reaction** _ **to me**_ **would cause the liquid to rise – and then everyone, including me, would know he had feelings for me. I felt my own heart rate increase at the possibility that I was right – that William Murdoch had romantic feelings for me. Increasing William's torture, the Inspector handed me the notebook with the questions to ask. The liquid rose a little when I stepped forward and read the next question. Then Higgins called out the question that has been plaguing me for months. I couldn't really believe it. He called out, "Is the detective in love?" Everyone's eyes fell to William and the liquid. William's eyes dashed to mine and then to the liquid. And, oh my god, that liquid shot up so high and so fast it made me gasp. My knees felt weak – "He loves me!" I thought, "He really does! I was right … Oh my god, William Murdoch loves me." His eyes seemed stuck on me. Time slowed. But all of a sudden the alarm sounded and everybody rushed off to address the emergency. Feeling overwhelmed and unsure of how to act around him now, I decided to escape with the rest of the group.**

 **I headed for the crime scene feeling like I was in seventh heaven. I needed to calm down, not react. Obviously William didn't want me to know. But oh my, I did know, the memory once again sending my head spinning, my heart racing and my knees shaking. I was in love and now it seemed like my dreams might come true. I pulled off my non-challant act when I saw William at the crime scene. He also remained in control, but I sensed it, under the surface. Honestly, the slight awkwardness was worth it. I let myself really feel it – We were in love, this beautiful man and I. Now all I had to do was wait him out.**

Placing the journal down on the night table and then running her fingers through his hair she said, "You know William, I really had no idea it was going to take so long. I'm not complaining – It was well worth the wait."

He lifted himself up to rest his head next to hers on the pillow. With a soft kiss he said, "Good." Then he reached over and turned out the lamp. Tomorrow was Saturday, and they would be able to sleep in. Contentment blanketed them as they drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Journal Journeys_The Club

William awoke on a Saturday morning to the soft caresses, kisses and whispers of his wife. Warmth and joy spread through his body. He was loved – He loved. Excitement entered his being as Julia slid her hand down his body, lingering on his thighs before centering in on the object of her desire. Her attentions caused his insides to stir, to spin, coiling tighter and tighter with need. Releasing him, she slid her leg up over him, placing much of what he so wanted to touch within reach. Starting at her ankle and continuing to her buttocks, William's hand slid over her skin and kneaded her flesh, signaling the intensity of his yearning. She moaned in response and slipped her body higher up along his, provoking him to explore deeper.

"Mmm," he moaned upon discovering her deliciously wet state. He wondered how she had become this aroused so quickly.

As if reading his mind, Julia said, "I was awakened by a dream with you." It was quite stimulating.

William rolled her over and placed a trail of kisses down her body, from her neck to her inner thigh. Kneeling between her legs, he used both hands to open her to better gain access. His kisses were soft at first, growing in intensity as he licked and sucked on her most sensitive spot, clearly driving her to the edge of frenzy.

Julia's fingers grasped the bed-sheet, twisting and coiling it to match the tension of her insides. "William, what are you doing to me?" she pleaded, struggling to catch her breath. "Please …" she gasped. She teetered on the precipice of bliss.

William pushed his tongue down harder, sending her into an arch. " _That's it_ ," he thought, " _Now you've got it_." After her last twitch, he rubbed his face against her inner thighs to wipe it dry, and glided up to cover her with his body. Finding her ear with his mouth, he softly bit her ear lobe. Having held off his own urges, he was now unable to wait any longer. He entered her and aggressively powered them both into rapture.

Totally spent, he rolled off of her onto his back, panting, sweaty, heart racing. She wrapped herself around him, placing her ear against his chest, amazed at the thumping of his heart. "You know William, you wrote in your journal after you had your "Julia dream" that you weren't sure you could withstand a _real_ encounter. Perhaps your concerns were warranted," she teased. It did her heart good to hear him chuckle in response.

"Julia," he said, "If I am lucky enough to die making love to you, know that I died happy." They lay together quietly for a time, basking in the ease of a Saturday morning. Having recovered, William said, "Now, I believe you owe me a reading about one of your dreams, hmm…"

"Yes, yes, most definitely," she replied. She stirred, finding her journal on the night table. She laid down on her stomach on the bed, elbows pressed into the mattress, chin cupped in her hands, with the journal opened in front of her. On his side next to her, William rested his head in one of his hands, leaving the other hand free to play with his wife's curls and explore her bare shoulders and back while she read.

 **It started out just like a memory. William and I were working on the Richard Hartley murder case. We had walked together through the woods to the Club's boat house. The deeper we went in the woods the more isolated we became. By the time we walked into the boat house, I felt we were the only two people in the world. William started looking through the oars. I hung back, allowing our distance to increase.**

 **He asked, "So, you are a member here?"**

" **Well, my family is," I replied.**

 **Lifting oars up one by one and twisting them to catch the light, searching to find one that matched the sliver of wood I had found, he said, "You must find it very stimulating."**

 **After a big sigh I let him know that I found it quite, "tiresome." As I walked over to him, I felt a sly smile slide onto my face and I asked, "What do you find stimulating, William?" thinking of the blue liquid rising up in the tube.**

 **He seemed a bit thrown off-guard by my question. I believe he even blushed. He quickly cleared his throat and held up one of the oars, "Solving mysteries," he said. "Briggs' oar doesn't match the sliver, but it does have blood on it," he continued. The blood was still wet, indicating someone was trying to frame Horace Briggs. William's face exuded the cocky happiness it gets when he has figured something out.**

 **The oar between us, I leaned in and challenged, "So, besides solving cases, what gets your blood pumping, so to speak?"**

 **William placed the oar against the wall and stepped in very close to me. My body responded to his closeness – my heart raced, my breathing deepened. I could smell him. Oh, I really liked the smell of him.**

" **You do," he said.**

 **As my head began to spin, all I could find to say was, "Oh?"**

 **I felt his chest press against mine and then push against me. He backed me up into a wall, and then he stepped in even more. I couldn't breathe. My knees felt weak. His rough, calloused hands fondled the contours of my face. My insides twirled and spun.**

" **I can't stop thinking about you. Since the moment I met you, I've known it – known you were the one that had my heart," he whispered.**

 **I had to wrap my arms around him to remain standing as he tilted his face, moved in and kissed me. The kiss was deep, passionate, demanding. He released my lips only to devour the rest of my face. The next thing I remember we were naked –** **except William had on only his tie** **! He lifted me up so only my toes could touch the ground and he penetrated me. I've never felt anything so delicious. My moan seemed to hit a note, a chord in him. He went wild, pushing very, very deeply inside of me. It was fast and hazy, and then it seemed to explode, with ripples spreading throughout my whole body. I must have called out his name, because I heard it in my bedroom. I awoke to find myself alone, still out of breath and with my heart pounding, my body still warm and flooded with pleasure. At that moment I regretted not teasing William about what "stimulated" him earlier when I had had the chance. Now it seemed further and further way from when his lie detector revealed his feelings for me. I find myself doubting it. Maybe I was wrong – perhaps he doesn't love me after all.**

"Believe me, he did," William said as he reached over and closed her journal. He pushed it over to the side of the bed and rolled her over, quickly covering her with his body. "It seems, Mrs. Murdoch, that you can write some rather titillating literature of your own," he said right before he kissed her, initiating another fiery round of lovemaking.

Eventually they got around to ordering some French toast for breakfast. Eating together at the small table in their suite, they discussed the journal entries.

Julia questioned, "Don't you find it interesting that each of us wrote about dreams in which the other has their way with us, where the other is the aggressor?"

"Well, I think we both enjoy that in reality as well… Although I do quite like having my way with you as well… Maybe it was because early on each of us was unsure whether or not our feelings were requited…" he pondered.

"And so our dreams fulfilled our subconscious wishes that the other would tell us that they felt the same way as we did … Wise," she concluded.

"William, Umm, Why did it take you so long to ask me out after that day with the lie detector? I mean you had to know that I knew you had romantic feelings for me after that. And I'm pretty sure I didn't send out any discouraging signals. I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but there were even times when I teased you – like when I said you seemed very interested in Dr. Tash because you were drilling me about my past with him," Julia wondered.

They cleared the dishes to be sent back down to the kitchen as William answered, "There actually is a pretty good reason for that, at least it made a lot of sense to me. I wrote about it, so we can share what I was thinking at the time.

He took a seat on the couch and pulled his journal into his lap. Julia sat down next to him.

He read:

 **Mortifying – mortifying to be seen as so low, so insignificant as to be sent to the service entrance. Even my badge was not respected. To be seen as "riff-raff" – rabble. But then to have Julia see me being put so low … Even worse, she had to get me in. She and I are from different worlds. I never really saw it before. I knew she came from a wealthy family – associated with TOFFs, but I saw those as reconcilable differences – things that could make the one more intriguing to the other. I didn't get the exclusivity of her world. I don't know what I was thinking – my head and heart full of schoolboy dreams. To think someone like her could ever be interested in me, that she was meant for me, that she was the one I would marry…**

Julia sat up taller. She reached over to lift his face out of the journal, "William, you were thinking of marriage so early on?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's the way I'm wired Julia, love and marriage go together, at least for me," he explained. She leaned in and kissed him. Then she pulled back, lifted an eyebrow at him and said, "It surprises me, but it's somewhat charming." She settled in closer to him and they both turned their attention back to his journal.

 **Minerva Fairchild, like royalty – "can't let her feelings show." Julia must have been the same … But she said she escaped, got herself free of such a life. Perhaps her ability to walk away from that life means she could love someone like me, someone from a poor family, no formal education, employed in a low-class job as a police detective. There is such angst. I just don't know. I can't tell.**

 **My heart wants her, and try as I might to tell it not to, the heart wants what it wants. It doesn't listen to reason. But reason must win out. I have to accept that ours will be a relationship of friendship only. I am respected as her colleague. At least if I keep my boundaries, hide my inappropriate feelings for her, we can be friends. In that way I can still have her – even if it doesn't feel like it's enough, it is better than her feeling awkward and us being disconnected, with me feeling ashamed. She seems to be able to relate to me comfortably, even after that event with pneumograph. I'm sure she could tell it was not intentional. I need to just keep it in check so as not to make her feel uncomfortable. Maybe that's the best I can get.**

"The end," he said, closing the journal.

"Hmm …" Julia started. "Well I never really thought about what that must have been like for you to have to be _rescued_ from your being put down by that snobby maître d' by me," she gave, "I see it now."

He nodded, "It was embarrassing."

Julia pulled back and caught his eyes. She sighed and said, "You know William, I think you were right when you wrote that our differences make us more interesting to each other. I am so impressed with your resilience, and I think you also admire my ability to find a deeper meaning in my life than walking around feeling superior to others because I was born into a well-to-do family…"

William nodded, "Indeed," he said.

She turned to sit facing him, pulling her legs up in front of her on the couch. "But then how did you ever overcome your decision to accept our being merely friends? What happened to get you to try engaging me in a romantic relationship with you?" she asked.

"That is such a great question, Julia," William teased, "I guess it will have to wait to be seen in our next journal journey," he said with a grin as he put the journal down on the table. He stood and offered her a hand. "Now, Mrs. Murdoch, I would like to take you out for a walk on this beautiful Saturday."

"Well, I'd be delighted," she replied, taking his arm as they went together to the bedroom to finally change out of their pajamas.


	4. Chapter 4

Journal Journeys_ Living in Your Head

William had been waiting for a day just like this one. He had been able to leave the stationhouse early, buy Julia flowers and chocolates, and get home before her. Ever since she had read him her dream about their making love in the Club boathouse, he had wanted to surprise her by dressing in the attire she described in that dream – basically just a tie. He placed the courting gifts on the table in the foyer of their suite, knowing she would see them the moment she came in. Expecting her at her usual time, around 5:30, he had enough time to shower (an invention he had rigged up in their tub), put on a standard black tie, and wait for her to find him on their bed.

Finding it to be a little chilly, he tucked himself under the blankets. Moments later he heard her at the door – but she was talking. Alarm spread through him as he realized she wasn't alone. He had left the bedroom door open and it was going to be a mad dash to get the door closed before Julia and whomever she was with got far enough into the foyer to be able to see him – in his birthday suit plus a tie. He heard the key turn in the door and their voices increase in volume as the door opened before he was even out from under the covers.

"You'll see Ellie, he really is supportive of our cause … Oh my! How lovely! …" Julia exclaimed seeing the flowers and chocolates.

William thought, _"Thank god I had a something to distract and delay them_ ," as he grasped the door and shoved it closed.

"How very nice, Julia. Does he do this kind of thing often?" Ellie, an activist friend of Julia's, asked.

"Yes, he …" Julia started to say, stopping as she heard the bedroom door abruptly close. It occurred to her that he might have been indecent, explaining why he would have needed to close the door so quickly. "William, is that you?" she called out.

"Yes … I'll be right out. I didn't expect you to have company," he said, sounding a bit harried.

A shy smile curled up at the edges of Julia's mouth, accompanied by a slight blush. Unfortunately, she could tell Ellie had deduced the same conclusion and looked … uncomfortable.

"Perhaps I should go?" Ellie whispered to Julia. She shook her head 'no' and responded, "No, please stay." Then she tried to reassure William through the bedroom door, "William, I invited my friend Ellie Masterson to join us for dinner. I wanted you to hear some of her ideas on helping build support for women's rights… We'll wait for you out here. Did you order dinner yet?"

On the other side of the door, William was almost dressed. He answered, hopping to put on a sock, "No… umm not yet."

Julia chuckled to herself and felt the warmest glowing flood of love for him spread through her. She offered Ellie a glass of wine, poured one for herself and ordered them dinner.

When William emerged from the bedroom, he looked calm, cool and collected – and, if anyone had asked Ellie, gorgeous. Julia introduced them. Ellie commented, "Julia, you never told me how good-looking your husband was," leading William to blush and Julia to wrap her arms around him and agree with her assessment. Then she whispered in his ear that she loved the flowers and the chocolates, and she would be sure to prove it to him later, eliciting jolts in his groin.

Over dinner they discussed some of the obstacles to women's suffrage and other rights and some actions to counter them. Ellie seemed wise and enthusiastic. Her young age and privileged upbringing, along with a degree in political science, rendered her a strong ally for the cause. William had expressed concern that some of her ideas seemed risky, likely to lead to arrest and even conviction. He was clear that such a result for Julia would greatly upset him. He also let them both know that he had no intention of trying to talk Julia out of accompanying Ellie in carrying out such actions, but wanted her to know how distressed he was about the possibilities. He would live with it, much as she lived with many of the risks of his job.

After Ellie left, Julia closed the door and then she pushed William's back up against the door, wrapped her arms around his neck, and peppered his face and neck with kisses. In a seductive voice she asked, "So, Mr. Murdoch, what were you planning on the other side of that bedroom door?"

"Well, Mrs. Murdoch, the night is still young. Perhaps you will get a chance to see. Would you like to take a shower, get comfortable?" he suggested, returning her romantic attentions with hugs and kisses of his own.

Julia took a shower and William re-dressed in his "tie only" attire. When she walked out of the bedroom, towel wrapped around her soap-smelling naked body, he was standing right in front of her, holding the flowers.

Her eyes dilated and her smile blossomed. "William, what … oh my! Why …"she said as soft laughter took her. Being contagious, William laughed too.

Julia dropped the towel, causing his eyes to blacken and a smile to grow on his face as well. She approached him and reached out to take the flowers. Then she stepped back to better observe the sight of him. "I am quite enamored and fond of this particular outfit, William," she said, trying to sound serious, fighting the urge to laugh some more. She put the flowers down and retuned to stand in front of him. She reached out to stroke his tie, something she had done countless times before, but it felt so different when it was the only piece of clothing she could touch. A tinge of jealousy flavoring her tone, she commented, "It's a good thing Ellie didn't see you in this … suit. She clearly found you to be quite attractive, husband, and I do believe she might have lost all semblance of self-control." She pulled him along by the tie as she backed towards the bed and said, "I am very much looking forward to having you make my dreams come true."

He stopped her and wrapped an arm around the small of her back. Brusquely he pulled her to him and he kissed her deeply, exploring the back of her naked body urgently with his hands. He turned their bodies, directing their motion to the wall instead of the bed, and backed her up into the wall. In her ear, voice husky and seductive, he said, "I believe your dreams were more like this," as he lifted her a few inches higher and pressed his body against hers with enough force to hold her there, somewhat defying gravity. He felt her breath, exhaling long and deep, desperate and hot, envelope his ear and flow down his neck to his shoulder.

Fighting the dizzy loss of words, she said, "Oh yes, William … yes."

After raking his teeth across her jaw and sucking on her neck, she heard his voice in her ear, felt it sinking into her soul, "At the moment I saw you, it felt like I was remembering you – like I'd known you forever. I knew you were the one for me, the only one there would ever be for me." Penetration was powerful, lifting her further from the ground, just the tips of her toes grazing the floor. She wrapped her legs around him and asked him to go deeper. He had lost the ability to speak, only able to moan in response as he obliged, reaching maximum depth when his testicles pressed against her buttocks.

Startled and aroused to the point of aching, she reacted, "Oh … oh … oh," with his rhythm. Nostrils flared as they demanded oxygen. Her voice husky with desire she said, "William Murdoch, oh … you undo me." To focus the pressure of their melding bodies most effectively, she arched her back and pushed her most sensitive spot against him. At last, her voice rumbling, he heard her, "Mmm …" as her rhythm broke and she rode the wave of pleasure. Confident in her satisfaction, he turned his concentration to his own needs and allowed himself to pick up the pace to join her for the journey.

They separated only moments before there was a knock on the door, likely the kitchen crew to pick up the dinner dishes. Julia put on a robe and answered the door. William went into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Julia spotted William's brown journal on the table by the couch. _"This journal sharing sure is turning out to be wonderful,"_ she thought. _I wish we'd shared our dreams even sooner. Who could have known what an aphrodisiac they would be?"_ her mind wandered, causing her to lift an eyebrow at the thought.

William caught sight of her reaction to her thoughts and asked, "Want to share what's going on in that beautiful head of yours, milady?"

He had put on his pajamas, and she approached him to fondle the buttons on the top. "I was thinking about how much we have been enjoying the reading of our journals, don't you agree?" she explained.

"Oh … yes," he replied. "And I think they have provided, and probably will continue to provide, insight for each other … and have even stirred some self-reflection," he added. "I found myself thinking about your question today… about how I overcame my belief that I was not of an appropriate class to court you …" he continued. "Actually, in many ways I didn't really overcome it. I mean I did in the sense that I did eventually ask you out – to the Dinosaur Ball as you probably recall, but after you left for Buffalo … and became engaged to Darcy, the misconception festered in my brain all over again," he said, seeming to drift off in his thoughts.

Julia called him back, caressing his cheek. "For how long did you have this idea – about not being of a high enough station to have … to have a romantic relationship with me?" she asked.

"Probably until you showed up at the Policemen's Ball at the turn of the century," he answered, the memory of seeing her come in wearing that drop-dead gorgeous red dress managing to make him feel glad to be alive all over again.

Julia's thoughts drifted back to his journal. She asked him if he would read something about what he was going through during that painful time. They settled together on the couch and he gave her some background about what he was about to read. He had been working on the "fire-poker" case. He was questioning the wealthy members of the dead man's family as well as some of the servants. Having concluded his interviews, he was heading back to the station. He was on the second floor and was planning on seeing himself out.

 **I rounded the corner at the top of the staircase and the sight of her, from the corner of my eye, crept in, much like a flash of lightning would. Instantly parts of me were set into motion. "** _ **Oh my god this is going to hurt – going to open up a wound that can never heal**_ **," I thought as the pain-soaked, pessimistic part of myself flew backwards away from her, taking flight in an attempt to run and hide from the memory of her, planning to later lick my wounds and drown in tears, alone in my room. "** _ **But, I so want her, so love her, must be with her to live,"**_ **my optimistic self declared, as it dove down the stairs towards her, hoping she had come for me, having left her chosen other.**

 **I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I had not breathed. I stood frozen in place – lost, broken. The need for survival drove me to inhale. With the needed oxygen, I drew back in the parts of me that had drifted out. As I stood there, unable to think beyond the fact that when I exhaled the pain would burn as the warm air crossed over my deeply wounded heart, I knew there was no way out except past her. My vocal chords sang her name without my permission when I breathed out, before I felt the distracting surge of pain, allowing the optimist in me to escape once more and pull me down the stairs to her in its wake.**

 **She was not there for me. She would not have even let me know she was in Toronto except for the coincidence of knowing the TOFFs involved with this investigation.** _ **He**_ **was meeting her family – Ruby, her father.** _ **He**_ **would be accepted.** _ **He**_ **was one of them. Oh how the optimist suffered, and oh, how I so hated that part of me for opening me up to this pain.**

 **Later, alone, I lay on my bed once again abandoned by sleep. Tears seemed to come and go with a rhythm as the cadence of the dialogue between my hope and my despair rattled on. My agony increased with each round of memories, fueled by the tiny light of hope. It drove me to demand a stop to the suffering – punch the optimistic part of myself in the stomach, shut it up. Curled up in a fetal position, trying to close the throbbing wounds, I told myself I could go on, but to do so I had to give up on that hope – It was the only way forward.**

William sighed, amazed at the strength of the pain he felt in his chest. He closed the journal. They held eye-contact, each recognizing the red, teared-up eyes in the other that they felt in their own eyes. They sat together, silent, feeling the ache together. Finally William said, "It was that optimistic part of me that pushed me to risk trying to court you those many years earlier, after I felt so ashamed in your presence at the Club, despite my reasonable mind advising against it."

Julia leaned in closer to William. She reached over and caressed his stomach. She sighed, "I love the optimist – it's what makes you such a good scientist, leads you to believe you can know the unknown, that you can solve problems, it drives you to try… I think the optimist is why you are so resilient, William."

They remained silent for a time, each following the paths of their own thoughts. Julia spoke first, "But after that I came back. Don't you remember the Jell-O mold?"

William sighed, turned to more directly face her, and said, "Julia, you came back to Toronto – to the job you said drove you to leave. The only difference was now you weren't mine – you were _his_. Why wouldn't I think that it was something about me that made you leave – didn't satisfy you, when being with me was the only thing that was different after you chose to return? … The pessimist in me insisted that it would hurt terribly to have you around and know that you loved Darcy instead of me. The realist settled with the need to have as much of you as possible – and if that meant merely colleagues and friends, then that would have to do… Now, my internal optimist thought he'd win you back. It may be the source of my resilience, but it was also the source of my unbearable agony. Life would have been so much easier if I had truly been able to give up on that hope."

William turned himself sideways on the couch, pulled his leg up in front of himself, and placed an elbow on the back of the couch to rest his chin in his hand. He helped Julia lift her leg over his and nestle into the space between himself and the back of the couch. He played with her curls, noticing that her hair was still damp and that she smelled wonderful. He sighed again and then said, "You know, when I really tortured myself I'd imagine Darcy making love to you… There was nothing that hurt me more… I had reasoned that you and he were already sexually intimate – based on what had happened between us the first time we kissed, remember, we almost made love that night..."

She shook her head, "Yes, but William I had already fallen madly in love with you by then. Don't you remember? We have already talked about when I fell in love with you, during the Orville case – and those lovely dance lessons." She chuckled and caressed his face, then continued, "That was before our picnic in the park. I would have made love with you that night, it's true. But only because I knew I had found the love of my life – that I would never love another like I loved, and still love, you. And those green fairies fluttering around and whispering in my ear – that mixed with what happens to me when I'm around you, your smell, the tone of your voice hits a chord in my soul…"

She placed her face close to his ear, kissed him and took a deep breath, pulling in his scent. She sighed again, "I never felt that way about Darcy. It was not until our wedding night that, umm, that we … consummated our marriage."

"Oh," he responded.

Julia caught his eye, "It is so ironic, you tortured yourself by imagining I was making love with Darcy, and the way I tortured myself was letting myself imagine I was making love with _you_ , William. I never wanted anything more than to make love with you – knowing I never would do so hurt me more than anything in the world."

William couldn't help but smile a little, knowing that she had wanted him so much, even in those moments of his most bottomless despair, sparked a fire deep within his core. It did his heart good to know that their love had never completely wavered.

Again they stayed quiet for a time. Julia's mind had drifted forward to her wedding night with Darcy when she finally did have sex with him. She considered reading William her journal reflection from that night. She knew she didn't want to get tangled into a game of comparing Darcy to William, and she also knew that many of the things she had felt, thought, and written about Darcy, particularly when it came to sex, were not flattering and she did not want to speak badly about him. She even thought that if the time came when she disclosed to William about Darcy's somewhat abusive actions after she had been buried alive and started calling out William's name during her blatant sexual dreams, that William would have been angered at Darcy… and she definitely did not want that. She considered that she could pick and choose which parts to read, and with that she suggested it. She went to the bedroom to retrieve her journal and they sat together on the couch as she read it to William.

 **He noticed, and it breaks my heart – fills me with guilt to add to my despair and grief –my desperate feeling of loss. He asked, after we were wed, why I kept looking at the church doors. I think he knows somehow, about William. I could not tell him, an effort to protect him as much as possible from the inevitable suffering that I fear must come. I denied waiting, praying, for William to come.**

 **After we consummated our marriage, a sexual act that took all of 10 minutes and rendered me empty and withering, I wondered if I would have the strength to ask Darcy to give me more, knowing it would never be enough. Darcy seemed satisfied, happy. He slept, I stole away, out to the parlor of our extravagant honeymoon suite. Sat on the couch, buried my face in a pillow, and sobbed.**

 **Why didn't he come? George said he gave him the letter – he had to have read it. He knows I would have preferred him – that I love him. My only conclusion was that he doesn't love me, or at least not enough to bond himself to a woman who can't have his children and who required him to make a public spectacle by stopping her wedding to another man. Now that I'm back in Toronto, I find that I have a slight hope that I am wrong – that he does love me that much, but that something else steered our fate. He is gone and Constance Gardner was freed. Perhaps something happened there… More guilt, I didn't think it was possible to feel anymore guilt, but I do. William could have hung, and I did nothing to help. If things were reversed I know he would have moved heaven and Earth to exonerate me. All I did was prove he had been drugged. Inspector Giles be damned, I wish I had done more.**

 **Well, what's done is done… But, when I look to the future, a future without William, truly a future without my soul-mate, I feel that my worst suffering will not be that he did not love me enough, but rather that I love him too much. It feels as if my heart has been ripped from me – like I will never be able to love again.**

Julia closed the journal, leaving it on her lap and reached over to place her hand on William's shoulder, and said, "Well, of course I know now that you did love me enough to do those things, but I didn't then, at least not for sure. But William, I have to say that on some deep level I never doubted your love for me. I was surprised to find out though that my love for you was so strong that I couldn't possibly be happy without you… And my god, William, I died inside thinking that I would never even kiss you again. Honestly, I was much more aroused by just a kiss from you, sometimes even from just standing close to you, than I ever was with Darcy at all… The physical attraction between us still astounds me."

He pulled her towards him, bringing her head to rest against his chest. "Yes," he said, "Our love, on all of its levels and in all of its aspects, is amazingly powerful, it's true." He whispered to her, "And we are married now… Sometimes I think that the reason we are so happily married is because of all the trouble we had getting together – that it really made us appreciate each other..."

"… Made us see the value of living each day together with _all_ of our hearts, _all_ of our souls," she finished. She moved away to better see him and asked, "Do you think all of the times we almost lost each other – not just because of mistakes we made, like living in our heads and not communicating, but also because one or the other of us almost died, too, heightens our love for each other?"

William showed he was considering her thought by wrinkling up one side of his face. "Seems wise," he concluded.

Julia looked back down at her journal in her lap and said, "You know, William, living in our heads has caused us so much pain. And we know we each have this tendency to think we know what the other wants and needs and to accept less than what we ourselves want to meet those imagined needs. It makes me think that we should be more conscious of this … Like, are we doing the same thing right now in any way? And if so, let's fix it." She knew that these ways of relating were most likely used when dealing with difficult issues, and so she thought a likely issue to consider was having children. She felt fear creep into her belly, confirming her reckoning. She knew she would have to bring it up even though the fear was growing exponentially.

William took a deep breath, pulling her out of her thoughts. She was surprised that he was going to be the one to tackle their possible problems first. As she watched him stumble and stutter, bravely battling his fear, a warm feeling of love for him grew in her chest. It seemed to put out the fear that had developed there.

"I have been thinking, umm … well, that … I guess I have been afraid that you, umm, that you don't actually want to have children at all. I mean not even to adopt … And so, I think I have been telling myself not to want children either," he said. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. His eyes held such worry.

Her fear was back. Such thoughts had been crossing her mind. She knew she needed to at least confirm his concerns, but she also knew how terribly conflicted she felt about the whole thing too. She needed to be careful, because the truth was she didn't really know what she wanted and he might see her ambivalence as wanting to say 'no' to adopting children, but trying to protect him from the disappointment.

The phone rang.

She realized she did not feel relieved by its stopping her from telling him, and that comforted her. She wanted to authentically share with him. She realized she actually even needed to. William was clearly disappointed by the timing of the call as well. He answered the phone – as they both suspected he was being called to a crime scene. It was a robbery, so Julia wasn't needed. She decided she would tell him what was in her head while he dressed. They both agreed that they felt better having talked about it and that they weren't yet done discussing it.

As William stood at the door getting ready to leave, she noticed he had put on the same tie that he had worn earlier. She reached up and stroked it as she said, "Now William, I do think I have a new favorite tie. This one has a very special place in my heart. Actually, I'm surprised there's any room there for anything else – it is so full of you."

He gave her a soft kiss and then wrapped his arms around her, bringing his lips close to her ear. He said, "That's the funny thing about love, the more you do it, the more it grows. You'll make room."

"Seems wise," she responded.

After the door closed, she found herself wondering if that was the reason she so worried about adopting children – that maybe her heart wasn't big enough to love them adequately and still love William – and her career, too… Perhaps she should do a little journaling now. It does often help clear the jumbled mind – to help get you out of living in your head.


	5. Chapter 5

Journal Journeys_Righting through Writing & Fighting

… _**she found herself wondering if that was the reason she so worried about adopting children – that maybe her heart wasn't big enough to love them adequately and still love William – and her career, too… Perhaps she should do a little journaling now. It does often help clear the jumbled mind – to help get you out of living in your head.**_

 **While William was called away to investigate the scene of a robbery, Julia reflected on her deeper thoughts about adopting a child by writing in her journal.**

Julia had nearly given up on the thought that she might fall asleep, but she must have eventually yielded because she was awakened when she heard William open the door. She recognized a tension in her, mingling with the happiness and relief in knowing that he was home, that he was safe. Feeling clearer about what she wanted after having spent some time writing about her concerns and hopes about adopting a child in her journal, she knew they would need to continue their conversation from earlier. Perhaps William would be able to help her feel more confidence in her ability to mother a child. She was not quite sure why, but she felt such doubt about this.

William's mind had been wrapped up in the case, and it wasn't until he got back to their hotel that he even remembered their conversation about adopting children. He felt relieved, having shared his concerns about Julia's commitment to adopting, but he was also worried about her reluctance. He so wanted children, but he also knew in his heart that he would prefer to live with a happy, content, childless Julia than a dissatisfied, resentful Julia as his parenting partner.

Attempting to be stealthy, William undressed and put on his pajama bottoms, brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Julia rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder and stroke his chest. She snuggled into him and moaned contentedly, voice breathy and seductive, she said, "Welcome home." She slid her leg up over him and lifted her lips up to his ear, allowing her breath to flow across it, creating a rumble that vibrated directly down to his groin. "Sleep or …" she whispered, and then inhaled his scent.

William turned her over onto her back. He nibbled on her neck, sucked on her earlobe, and then, after deeply taking in the smell of her, he replied, "Or … definitely or," surrounding her brain with his hot breath, plunging it into her soul. Her insides reacted instantly, causing her to arch up into him. There was desperation in her voice as she said, "I want 'or' too, William." Her body twitched up into another arch and she let go a gasp as he found her breast, "Oh, yes… please."

Wanting to tease her to the point of collapse, he removed her nightgown and slowly kissed down her body, and then around the place he knew she most wanted to feel his touch. When he finally put his mouth on her she moaned and rocked, throwing her head back. The pleasure was excruciating, driving her to grasp the bed sheets with all her might. He brought her the relief she begged for.

Knowing she was content, floating in the swirl of delight, he inched back up her hot, loose body to take her into his arms once again. He whispered in her ear, "I love you, Julia."

She swallowed, took in a deep breath. Her lips flickered across the contours of his face enticingly. She wanted more. Hungrily, she reached down to pull at the drawstring on his pajama bottoms. He helped, sliding the pajama bottoms off. In anticipation, she moaned again, bringing a smile to William's face, as she wildly arched her back and seemed to spasm against him. Knowing his pleasure would come, feeling strong, virile and in control, he tortured her some more, using two fingers to penetrate her, pressing the heel of his hand into her with an intoxicating rhythm. The warmth, tightness, and tiny eruptions in her womb burst outward, overwhelming her body once again. "Oh, William … what are you doing to me?" she cried out desperately. Her breath burned into him, "Please William … I want you." At last he obliged her, rolling on top of her, pushing deep inside of her, and then driving them both into cascading bliss.

As the whirling of the room slowed, he noticed that she was crying. "Hey, hey," he said as he pulled her tight to his chest. He thought to himself, " _A sure sign of intense lovemaking_." He squeezed her, bringing her close enough to his face to lightly kiss her forehead. He brushed the hair out of her face with his fingers.

She explained, "Oh, William … the feelings are so strong." Her crying intensified, nearly weeping.

William rolled her onto her back and kissed away a few tears. "I think I taste love for me in there," he said.

Julia sniffled and nodded, "Yes."

He kissed a few more tears away from her cheek and said, "Suffering too … lots of suffering."

Julia shook her head, "Uh huh," she confirmed.

Tenderly he kissed away the tears once more. This time he said, "Fear, is it fear I taste too."

Julia's crying intensified, providing a response to his question. She pushed him onto his back and laid her head on his chest. He held her for a few moments until her crying drained off. Eventually she found her discarded nightgown to use to dry her tear-soaked face. She explored his bare chest, her fingers pausing to cover the scar left below his heart by an arrow. She lifted herself up to lightly kiss the old wound. "You are so scarred up," she said with a sniffle.

He brought his hand to her cheek, comforting her with caresses along her chin and lips with his thumb. "Is that what you are afraid of – that I will die?" he wondered.

Her hand traveled to find the old bullet wound on his right shoulder from when he was shot in Bristol. The sensation brought her thoughts back to that time. She shook her head, she had been so sure he was dead then – and although she was head-over-heels in love with him at the time, she would only be more devastated now. She answered, "I'm always afraid you'll be killed, William… Always… I have accepted that it is something I have no choice but to live with."

Julia stiffened in his arms. She had let her mind move forward to what she knew she had to do – to tell him about her … hesitations about adopting. He sensed the change.

"William, I did some writing in my journal after you left," she started. She took a deep breath, "It helped. I'm, um, more sure of what it is I want… Um, of course it's no surprise, I'm sure, to you, that I do still want to be able to continue my career even after we adopt a child. But … um," she reached up and rubbed her forehead, distracting herself for a moment as she thought, " _Funny, that's what_ _ **he**_ _usually does when_ _ **he**_ _is stressed_." She sighed and told herself to push on – that he would probably be able to help her. Resting her head back down on his chest, her voice piercing the dark room, with him hanging on her every word, she said, "I seem to be having problems with my confidence in myself as a mother … I'm worried that I will not be able to parent the child well, love the child enough… And, well I know you would make a great father … and I, um …"

William found himself wondering, " _Not a good mother?! She doesn't think she will be a good mother? She's wonderful with children – warm, encouraging, caring, fun … No child could do better. Why would she think… Oh, maybe her abortion … Perhaps …_ "

William cleared his throat and suggested, "Julia, could it be that the reason you are so unsure of your mothering has to do with your abortion. I mean, perhaps you feel you made a … harmful choice, and you feel guilty. And now that's …"

Julia was off of the bed so fast he was challenged to even determine where in the black room she went. When he turned the light on he could see that she was already in her robe and gathering up sheets and pillows. Upon seeing her in the light, it was obvious that she was furious. William's head started to buzz and spin. Fear enveloped him.

Julia's eyes burned into his as she yelled, "I can't believe you would say that. You said we put my abortion behind us, but it's the first thing you bring up. And … it's not bad enough that I did such a " _horrible_ " thing, but now you're saying it's why I can't be a good mother!"

"I didn't say I thought so, I said I thought maybe _**you**_ thought so," he said, trying to defend himself and explain what he thought was clearly her misunderstanding of what he had said. He got up and put on his pajama bottoms as he tried to get her to look at him, "Julia, … Julia …"

She carried the large pile of bedding into the parlor, turning to face him before she got to the couch and, with her volume lower, but her anger elevated, jaw nearly locked in place, she said, "If you do that you are projecting your thoughts onto me – It is what you think, isn't it?!" She threw the pile down onto the couch and reached over to turn on the lamp on the side table, its glow suddenly appearing between them. Sounding on the verge of tears, face wrinkled and arms thrashing in anger, Julia continued, "I turned to you for support, to help me feel more confident in my mothering and you pulled the rug out from under me – drawing attention to how bad of a mother I have been in the past. Honestly William, I can't believe you would do that to me when I was the most vulnerable."

Carrying and flinging the bedding had loosened the sash of her robe. It was opened sufficiently to show some of her naked, voluptuous curves, along with the curly hair crowning her crotch. William's eyes slid down to catch the sight, getting momentarily stuck there while she argued. Noticing … she stood staring at him, almost in disbelief. She hadn't thought she could get any angrier. She pulled the robe to the sides, revealing more of her flesh as she placed her hands on her hips, and with fire and steam escaping along with the words, she said, "Take a good look Mister, it's the last time you'll see it for awhile."

His eyes jumped back up to meet hers. Briefly, very briefly, he blushed. But embarrassment quickly left his face to be replaced by a series of emotions as they flooded through him – hurt – anger – then nothing, no emotion at all. At least, that's what Julia saw. She had seen this final look before, when he was interrogating a suspect. The closest word she could think of to describe it was 'cunning' and she had never seen it aimed at her before. A part of her wanted to run away, she knew he was a formidable adversary, and it seemed that things had dangerously turned combative. However, she intended to stand her ground. She dramatically re-tied the robe with quick jerks, pulling it very tight.

He began to say something, but changed his mind and turned to go back in the bedroom.

Although she was somewhat intimidated about relating to him when he was in that mode, she found it completely unacceptable that he would walk away from her – say nothing in response to her accusations. She called after him, intending to hit him hard, force him to react, "You're such a little piss-ant, William!"

He paused, his back still to her, but then continued on. The light went off in the bedroom. She heard him get into bed.

About an hour later, lying on the couch in the dark unable to sleep, Julia heard him get up and take a shower. While he was showering she was running the argument through her mind for the umpteenth time. She heard herself sigh. Her thoughts ran through a course of reasoning, " _I know he wouldn't want to hurt me. It's just that he can be so awkward about empathy and understanding others at times. Maybe I over-reacted. Even worse, maybe he has a point. But if he does it certainly doesn't help his cause. After all, he wants to adopt, and, if I'm feeling inadequate as a mother that would be blocking that very same adoption …"_ (The shower shut off ). _"Wouldn't he be smart enough_ _ **not**_ _to bring it up_." (It didn't sound like he was going back to bed … drawers were opening and closing…). Her thoughts continued, " _He sometimes just can't help saying what seems logical to him, whether it helps or hurts his cause – always bound to the truth, or at least the truth as he sees it at the moment_."

She heard him in the foyer – at the door. _"Is he leaving?"_ She thought. Sitting up on the couch she softly asked, "William … What are you doing?"

Defeat and impatience in his tone he said, "I can't sleep. I might as well get some work done. I have a few cases … I'm going to the stationhouse."

There was a pause, the dark ness exaggerating it. Julia's voice, calm and warm, drifted through the blackness, "Please don't go," she said.

He turned away from the door, placed his hat back on the rack, took a deep breath, waited.

Julia turned on the lamp on the nearby table and stood in front of him in her robe. She made an effort to hold his eyes as she said, "I'm sorry William. I know you didn't intend to hurt me… I, umm, I don't want to … Let's talk – work it out?"

He sighed, deciding to risk revealing all of his thoughts, he said, "Julia, the way I see it we have a problem. Either we don't adopt and deal with my disappointment, or even worse, resentment of you… or we do adopt and deal with your dissatisfaction, and resentment of me – and possibly the children as well… And, as adopting has the potential to hurt _not_ just us, but the children too, I figure it is best to just not adopt…"

She stepped back, shook her head. Internal struggle blasting inside her, she took a deep breath. Her voice carried a mix of anger and control as she stepped forward, bringing herself closer to him, "You see, William, that makes me angry – you're internal decision that we are stuck with those choices, and only those choices. Who are you to claim that you know that adopting a child would render me dissatisfied and resentful…"

William stepped back a bit, worry overtaking his features.

She leaned in even closer and sternly warned, "Don't you dare. Don't you dare run away from my anger, William. You can take it." Her tone softened, "Stay with me," she said.

He visibly relaxed. With a deep breath he stood up taller, not wanting to appear weak or under her control.

She explained, "I am worried … worried that having a child will harm my career. As a matter of fact, if we can't find a way to adopt a child without my continuing to work then, it's true, I don't want to adopt. But, I think there are ways… Like we could hire a live-in nanny. We have enough money for that." She paused, looking for his reaction.

William was thinking that her current dilemma – career vs. child, had very blatant similarities to the dilemma she likely faced back when she became pregnant and chose to have an abortion. He was battling within himself about whether or not to voice these thoughts. He suspected they would result in flames. He wasn't sure he was ready to try to put them out.

"What is it, William?" her voice cut through his thoughts.

He focused on her face, but then dropped his eyes, only to bring himself to return them to hers. Seeming to hold his breath, he said, "I think it will make you madder."

She stepped very close to him, with eyes sparkling with threat, she lifted an eyebrow at him and challenged, "Can't you handle it?"

He held his ground, voice warm with sincerity, he answered, "I don't like it."

"Hmm …" she responded. Then, moving back a touch, folding to his hold, she said, "What is it?"

William squirmed, showing his discomfort, but offered, "I'm hesitant to bring it up again, the abortion you had … but, umm, but it seems like a similar situation … umm – your career vs. having a child, I mean."

Julia's arms started flailing around as she responded, "William, for god's sake, it is very different! … I was young then, I had not even had a chance at having a career yet… I wasn't married! … I wasn't with … a man I adore, at least most of the time," (He thought he saw a wink). She began to pace, continuing, calmer now, "A man I know would be a great father… Honestly, William, can we let it go?" She halted, holding his eye.

He walked the short distance to stand close to her once again. He reached up and pinched one of her fiery curls between his thumb and finger. Time slowed for a moment. They each took a deep breath. "Yes – I see now," he stated. He wrinkled up his face, getting as close to, " _I'm sorry_ ," she was likely to get.

She so needed him, his support, his belief in her. She asked, eyes drifting away from his, not able to handle a hurtful response, "Do you think I would be a good mother?"

Confidence flooded his face, a slight smile at the corners of his mouth showing his satisfaction with his ability to answer her question. He tilted his head slightly to the side and dipped it, suggesting a bow, and said, "I really do, Julia – you are warm, caring, respectful, empathic, and … fun. I can't think of anyone better suited to raise children. Truthfully, that is why I brought up the abortion in the first place – because I was trying to find a reason, any reason, why you would think you would not make a good mother… Julia, you've already shown that your instincts to love and care for children flow freely. Think of the compassion and encouragement you showed the street boy – the one we eventually determined murdered his friend. You gave him books, discussed them with him. You trusted him and cared for him when no one else in the world would. Sincerely, I think you would be a wonderful mother."

"Even if I kept on working?" she asked, hope seeping in.

"Well, we'd have to work it out, but your working would be inspirational to our children, helping them see equality of the sexes close up and at hand. And you would be authentically happier … and free of resentment. Yes, as a matter of fact, I think you should keep working. We'll need to figure out how …"

She leaned even closer to him, trust and excitement pulling her magnetically to him, and suggested, "Maybe an older child? … One that doesn't require quite as much care from moment to moment, one who is already out of diapers. And with a live-in nanny, we would have less privacy, but the child would be cared for sufficiently while I was at work…"

He wrapped his arms around her waist and said, "Agreed." They hugged. When they pulled back from the hug he said, with a slight raise of his brow, "Now I noticed that you say, 'child' and I say, 'children' …"

She lifted her arms to enclose them around his neck and she brought her lips to his ear. Mischievously she said, "Mr. Murdoch… Are you bargaining for more?"

"Mmm," he replied, and then he pressed his lips to hers for a passionate kiss. " _I guess some details still need to be worked out,_ " he thought, before he felt the swirling dizziness of desire start to take his brain.

Breaking off the kiss to breathe, he was pulled out of his fog when Julia said, her husky voice signaling her similar response to their kiss, "We will need to buy a house."

She heard William's breath hum past her ear as he replied, "I want to build one – a really, really, big one." He kissed and nibbled on her neck, causing her insides to coil-up with yearning.

She moved her hands down from his neck to push against his chest, increasing the distance between them and demanded, while playing with his tie, "William Murdoch! How many children do you want?"

He chuckled, "One more than you agree to."

"Oh, really…" she replied, starting to undo his tie.

Both of his hands taking hold of her head, he stepped in close to her and kissed her deeply. Lifting his mouth away from hers, only to rake his teeth across her jaw and then take her neck again, to be rewarded with her moan. She felt him hesitate, his mouth near her ear, her skin registering his lips tensing into a sly smile before he added, "And a dog too."

Leaning back so he could see her, she rolled her eyes up to the heavens and teased, "Of course … a dog too … And what if I want a cat?"

He pulled back to catch her eyes and said, "Then I guess we'll have a cat too …" He wrinkled up his face, showing concern and added, "I hope it gets along with the dog." Although he tried to hide it, the corners of his mouth suggested a smile.

A splurge of warmth flooded Julia's heart. " _Oh my god how I love this man_ ," she thought. Having undone his tie, she took both ends of it in her hand and pulled it tight. She kissed him softly and then said, "Oh, William Murdoch, I am madly in love with you."

"And I with you," he replied. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she stepped back. She pulled him to her by his tie and he continued their motion until she bumped up against the wall. He tilted his head in preparation for another kiss, his lips floating just above hers…

And she asked, "Is this the "dream" tie?"

"Um hmm," he answered. Then he kissed her strong and rough, his hands holding her head, locking her in place. As he began to move his hands down to her shoulders, he felt her robe. Although his mind was spinning again, he remembered what she was wearing – he started to devise his plan for getting her out of it. But, hitting his brain like a bolt of lightning, he heard her angry voice in his inner world, so close to him it caused the sting to resonate, stealing his breath, "Take a good look, Mister – it's the last time you'll see it for awhile." He stopped abruptly. He tried to think it through, " _She was angry then – she's not how. She really didn't mean it, I'm sure. It was just an angry reaction. It feels like she …_ " he thought.

"What is it William?" she asked.

Moving back to better see her, he answered, "Well, umm … I … umm, Julia you said, umm …" and then he dropped his eyes down to take in her robed body.

"Oh … Oh, I see," she declared. "Perhaps you won't have to wait quite as long as I thought," she said. She stepped in and hovered enticingly over his ear again and whispered, "Would you untie my robe for me, husband."

Holding his eyes to hers, he reached down and undid the sash. He slowly, softly opened her robe. His thumbs slid across her luscious skin as he did so. The touch sent jolts directly down to his groin. She pushed him back, allowing his view to better take in the sight of her. She loved to see his eyes grow big with desire upon seeing her. She slid the robe off of her shoulders, letting it slide to the floor. He gasped, visibly stunned. Wanting to totally push him over the edge, she placed her hands on her hips and seductively wiggled them at him. His eyes ignited with desire, and yet, he surprised her by staying put, strictly holding himself in control.

He took off his tie. She found herself wondering if he was going to undress – repaying her teasing of him, making _her_ wait. Closing the distance between them, he smoothly wrapped the tie around her neck, and methodically he crossed one end over the other and then pulled the knot up snug to her throat. Her insides were so tense and tight with lust she thought she might explode. He stepped back, soaking in the view. He said, a smile cracking at the corners of his mouth, "Now it's my favorite tie too."

Deciding he had waited long enough, William moved in to press her tightly up against the wall. Passionately he devoured her face, neck, while his hands roamed her waist, hips, backside. Julia responded in kind. Stepping back enough to separate their chests, he took her breasts in his hands. He lifted them, kneaded them, pushed them together, repeatedly. Julia's insides turned over and over with his exquisite attentions. She gained pleasure from watching the focus, the naked want he showed on his face as he looked at what he was doing to her.

He swallowed in order to ensure his voice would be less dry with desire and said, "It is quite enticing – watching the tie get completely captured in between your breasts."

Julia moved her hands down to his waist and whispered in his ear, "Yes, I agree, but there is another part of you, William Murdoch, that I would like to … "capture"… even more." She found the first button of his trousers and twisted it, causing the fabric to burst open. William's moan drove her wild. She finished freeing him from the buttons and slid her hand down inside his underwear, the warm contact leading both of them to sink with nearly unbearable pleasure. William stepped back and they hungrily pulled off his jacket, vest, and finally dropped his suspenders. He kicked off his shoes and then removed his trousers and underwear. He stood before her, his strong, urgent desire for her blatantly on display.

"William, I …" was all she could get to come out of her mouth for her head was spinning with arousal too much to speak. They wildly made love against that wall.

Holding each other tight, hearts slowly recovering, Julia remarked how glad she was to have thought to use the journal to help her find her thoughts. William agreed.

(Note to the Reader: This was a departure from the theme of having Jilliam share their journal entries with each other. Hopefully, you agree with me that this story still fits the premise in that the journal provides a fulcrum upon which the story can oscillate and build).


	6. Chapter 6

Journal Journeys_Desperation & Coping

 _ **Note to Reader: William and Julia stayed up talking till past midnight. There's a good chance this story is long enough that you will too! ( ;**_

The first thing she became aware of as she awoke was the sound of William breathing next to her. Before she could even consciously register what the sound was, relief flooded through her body. At some point in the middle of the night, she had stirred to find that he was still not home. It had taken quite a bit of reasoning with herself to calm down, accept that he was _probably_ fine, and, eventually, fall back to sleep. Sometimes, in reaction to these kinds of emotions and thoughts, she would question the wisdom of having let herself fall so in love with him. And yet, now, safe and cozy in bed with him while he slept, as the warmth of her love for him emanated out of her core to nurture and invigorate every cell of her being, she knew that, not only did she never actually have a choice, but, if she did, she would make the same choice again.

Reflecting on losing him always left Julia feeling desperate, like she was crumbling apart – frantically spinning out of control. Just imagining it, and sometimes it seemed to her like she did so to provide practice so she would be better prepared when – if – he were killed, made her feel nauseous, out of breath, unable to think. And now, she had agreed they would adopt a child. She would be somebody's mother, and he their father. " _How would I possibly carry on with raising the child without him?"_ she asked herself. Yes, it seemed the decision to become parents made her even more dependent upon him. As the dis-ease in her body teetered on becoming overwhelming she would engage thoughts to pull herself back from the edge. " _First off, you have no reason to believe he will be killed,_ " she would tell herself. Her self-soothing and self-coaching would continue, " _Further, you are very resourceful, strong – you would find a way to cope."_ Then she would turn away from the thoughts, distract herself with something else, while she would feel them sink away, deeper into her unconscious, never really gone, but far enough away that she could function, feel safe, carry on with life as it was now – in the moment.

Knowing he had not gotten enough sleep, she decided to revel in admiring him while he slept, rather than waking and then seducing him. She pressed her elbow into the mattress and rested her chin in her hand. She studied his face. The two characteristics that she found most attractive were his warm, big, brown eyes with their long, thick eyelashes, and his square jaw. She sighed, as she thought, " _He truly is the most handsome man I have ever seen_ ," and then she chuckled at her own schoolgirl behavior. Currently, she found her eyes stuck focusing on his lips. She wanted to touch them – even more she wanted to kiss them, taste them, feel them bend and mold to hers. Arousal began to take a hold of her womb, her breathing, her heart-rate. She pushed the feelings away and thought, " _Well, it's another work day, I'd best get to it_ ," rousing herself to get out of their contented, happy marriage bed. She would let him sleep as long as possible.

Later at breakfast William handed her the morning paper and said, "Page 3, but I don't think you're going to like it."

She caught his eyes for a second, remembering her earlier thoughts while lying in bed, and consciously confirmed them, " _Yes, definitely the most handsome_." Page 3 had a captivating photo that hit the reader's eye even before the headline. Julia didn't know whether to gasp or laugh upon seeing it. There, in the top center of the page of the largest newspaper in Toronto, was her husband with his lips locked in a kiss with a young woman. It was obvious that he was shocked, physically leaning back away from the woman, hands rigidly clenched at his sides, eyes open – and wide with surprise. Hence the urge to laugh, which quickly won out between the two reactions. "William," she said through a giggle, "What on Earth? …" she asked.

He seemed to be unimpressed, keeping his focus on spreading jam on his toast, not lifting his eyes to meet hers, he replied, "Read on." Just slightly, the corners of his mouth betrayed his urge to join her in laughter.

Of course, there was a reasonable explanation. William had solved the case and the young lady was beyond grateful for his finding evidence which exonerated her. However, Julia figured that if William were not so good-looking, the woman would have found another way to express her gratitude. Fortunately it was clear that William was not particularly aroused by the kiss, so her jealousy, although it existed, was relatively minimal. Julia fully intended to take advantage of the opportunity, however – she planned to tease William mercilessly about it throughout the day, feigning anger at his "transgressions." She loved his reactions to her ribbing – sometimes halting and raising an eyebrow at her, others blushing, and sometimes trying to pretend he didn't even hear her. " _Yes, it was going to be a fun day_ ," she thought. "William, I see you solved the case! Well done, detective," she finally said.

For his part, he had decided he would need to buy Julia some flowers the moment he noticed the flashbulb go off at the crime scene during the … young woman's onslaught. Once he had seen the actual picture in the paper, he was both relieved, that his body language so clearly indicated his lack of involvement in the kiss, and embarrassed at the comical look of him being pounced upon by the vixen.

Julia passed William back the paper. With difficulty she held her facial expression to one of stern displeasure, "You are kissing quite a young, shapely woman there, William," she said.

William squirmed in his chair, defensively he exclaimed, "She kissed me, Julia!"

Julia leaned over to smell his neck and collar. "You know William, I thought I smelled another woman's perfume on you when you were in bed this morning. Is that why you were so late – you were … traipsing around with … her?" Julia probed, gesturing towards the newspaper.

"After, uh … I had to get the confession in writing and I had to complete the report, or at least most of it… That's why I was late," he explained.

"And her scent on you?" Julia dug.

He dodged her eye for a moment, looking a bit uncomfortable, he said, "Well, umm … that couldn't be avoided, she umm … her … I mean she was touching me so …" and then, much to Julia's pleasure, he blushed. " _I'll have to get her those flowers by lunchtime_ ," he thought.

Julia took pity on him and said, leaning over further to better see the paper, "Yes, the photo does show where she is … "touching you" – her arms around your neck and all. I suppose it makes sense that it was during that quick interchange between you two that you picked up the smell of her perfume… Perhaps that is all there is to it?" William nodded hopefully.

She drifted off in thought, a dark, unsettling feeling crept in. She found herself staring at the newspaper. Her instincts told her to push the disconcerting feeling away, but her training in psychiatry had taught her to actually focus in on the feeling – find its source. Her skin crawled as it came to her conscious awareness. She remembered that Darcy used to cut any stories about William out of their morning newspaper to keep her from seeing them. By that time in her marriage with Darcy things had gotten very bad. She had never shared with William how desperate and stuck she had ended up feeling at the end of her marriage with Darcy. She wasn't totally sure that she wanted to now, but she felt compelled to do so. Perhaps because she wanted him to know how much better her life had gotten with him, or maybe because she had been so lonely and despairing at the time – and now, with him, she knew she would never feel that way again. All she knew was it felt dishonest if she didn't share it with him – like she was keeping a dirty secret.

"A–hem," Julia said, clearing her throat to get his attention – change the subject. "It's been awhile since we shared our journals – I have something I'd like to share. Perhaps tonight?" she asked.

Lifting his big, brown eyes from the newspaper, letting them take in the sight of her, detecting her reacting to him with a softening, then feeling his own body fill with joy, he said, "I'm looking forward to it – hopefully nothing will come up."

She was pleased to notice that just a simple, meaningful look from William, like the one they had just shared, could drive away the eerie feelings that had threatened to swamp her. She pushed away from the table and asked, "Do you want to share a carriage or are you going to use your bicycle?" She stopped behind him to lean down and tenderly kiss his neck.

"I'm going to cycle. It helps keep me in shape," he answered. He turned his chair sideways, took her hand and pulled her into his lap. Julia finally got to touch his lips. She slid her thumb over them sensually. William took her head in his hands, slipping his fingers into her soft curls and drew her to him for a kiss. The passion grew.

Breaking off the kiss, Julia said, "Hmm, perhaps I should have seduced you this morning instead of letting you sleep," and then kissed him deeply some more. She could feel him getting aroused under her, magnifying her own desire.

He found the bottom of her skirt and slid his hand up the inside. She melted down deeper into him in response. His fingers found the sensitive area where her thighs came together. She moaned through their kiss. But then she pushed away from him and said, "We don't have time – we'll be late for work."

William stood, lifting her to her feet as he did so. He held her hand and turned to face their bedroom. "We'll be quick," was all he said. Then he led her to the bed. They lowered their undergarments, raised Julia's skirt and made hot, passionate love on the bed, shoes still on – except one of Julia's fell off!

That evening:

William had gotten home early. He set up the suite for their plans, lighting a few candles around the room for a romantic ambiance, laying their journals together on the table by the couch, he had even ordered a bottle of wine for Julia.

When Julia got home she couldn't help but be touched. She heard the water running in the shower he had made in their bathroom and her mind rushed to imagine kissing him later, taking in the clean scent of him after his shower. She smelled the roses in her hand – a gift from William that she had received at lunchtime, found a vase to place them in, and noticed the wine. She poured herself a glass and sat for a moment on the couch, kicked off her shoes and allowed herself to bask in the feelings of being pampered and cared for by him.

Once the water turned off, she joined him in their bedroom. A slight look of disappointment spread across her face in reaction to finding him already wrapped in the towel from the waist down. " _We'll have to change that_ ," she thought. They held eye contact for a moment – still, each taking a breath. Then Julia walked up to him. She whispered in his ear, telling him of her appreciation for his loving preparations for the evening (but in the back of her mind she was unsettled – she had decided she did not want to share the journal excerpts she had originally asked to share). She kissed him, and yes, he smelled fantastic. He suggested she take a shower while he ordered their dinner. She agreed. He helped her undress. Once she was naked, she rubbed up against him seductively and removed his towel.

"Later," his warm voice said in her ear, "Take a shower. Get nice and relaxed."

In the shower a few moments later, she recognized the wisdom of his ways – it was delicious. By the time she joined him, the dinner had arrived and she felt both more invigorated and more relaxed.

At dinner, Julia learned that it was not only she who had teased William throughout the day about his "kiss" but the men at the stationhouse seemed to have a great deal of fun at his expense as well. He was truly a good sport about it all, and she loved her flowers.

They settled together on the couch. William took one of her curls in his fingers and asked her if she was ready to read her journal to him. She had been slowly losing her nerve all day. She wondered what good could come of it. She figured William would be angry with Darcy, maybe that is what she wanted – for him to validate her feelings of having been abused and mistreated, and to instinctively want to protect her. Perhaps she needed to feel his strength, his care. But …

"I have changed my mind, William. I don't want to read the passages anymore," she explained, her look asking for his understanding.

"Oh," he said. He looked at her, really looked into her, trying to see if she was alright. He must have decided she wasn't because he pushed the issue further. He turned his body to hold a more direct line with her and said, "May I ask why?"

Julia squirmed and shifted. She offered an explanation, "Umm, I was thinking about it and … well, it's about me and Darcy, not so much you … and … it's dark and ugly, and I just don't want to anymore."

Trying to give her more room, but not give up, he asked, "What made you think of it this morning?"

Julia looked down, and then over at their table where they were sitting this morning and sighed, "The article about you in the paper … um, it reminded me …" she stopped and sighed again. She returned her gaze to his eyes.

William thought she looked lost. He didn't want to let it go – her uneasiness troubled him, and besides, his curiosity was piqued. "Julia," he said, "The passages you were going to read, when were they from?"

Quietly, she answered, "From when I was married to Darcy, up until before I went to the Policeman's Ball." She shifted and placed herself in his arms, then rested her head on his shoulder. She rubbed her hand along his stomach.

William stated, "Well, I must admit that those were challenging times for me too, but may I suggest that I read some parts of my journal from that same time, and then, perhaps you will want to read from yours afterwards." Julia thought it was a good idea, so she reached over to take his journal from the table and passed it to him. He opened it up, resting it in his lap, where Julia could see it as well, and shuffled through the pages looking for a section to read. Julia spotted one that started, "Anna is back," and asked William to read that one. He described the situation before he read. He was working on a case of a missing librarian and found that Anna Fulford had returned to Toronto and was working as a librarian. He was, of course worried about the Black Hand still being after her, but she'd been here awhile and they had not tried to kill her, so he was willing to consider the possibility that she could safely stay.

 **Anna is back. I was coping, had dove into work, was moving along fine, well not fine, but not noticing the pain, anyway. Now Anna is back. Flirting mercilessly as ever. Of course, she always has. We were so close to being intimate in Bristol. If I hadn't called out Julia's name we probably would have been. Funny, that I remembered Julia's name before I could even remember my own – like being William Murdoch is deeply tied to being in love with her. I remembered, just for a flash, her face, her long curls, mostly my feelings of love for her. I heard my voice call her name before I consciously decided to do so… Anna wants to start again, us two. Perhaps I should try … not live life alone. But it is so insincere. I can't love her – not really. I feel like a magnet that has lost its charge. I am not attracted to anyone...** _ **else**_ **– I can't seem to stick.**

(Julia felt jealousy at the thought of Anna flirting with William, and shock – that he almost made love with Anna! " _And, my god_ ," she thought, " _he spoke my name before he could even remember who he was. That's amazing_!" But what seemed to most powerfully engulf her was the sadness of hearing that he was so alone, and so damaged by his loss of her. And dancing around inside of her heart with all of this was the awareness of how much she loved him – even now, she was struck by how his internal drive, his instincts, were to do what was right, even in the face of that loneliness and pain.)

 **Fate - perhaps? I haven't seen Julia for many months, and while I have Anna in my office, suddenly she's back – arrested for teaching about contraception. I find it is the rebel in her that most thrills me. I went down to see her in the cells. Interesting – when I first saw her I didn't feel it – thought, "** _ **it might finally be dead**_ **". I wondered if it had finally died inside of her too – starved of stimulation, care and hope. But then, when I was speaking of her being "stubborn" there was a … twitch, a spark inside of me. And … when she said she liked to think of it as "determination" and walked back into that cell and closed the door, bravely taking on the world for what she thought was right, well then the flame burst back into my heart. I heard the rush of air barrel past my ears and surge down my throat, nearly creating a gasp, as oxygen was consumed by the intensifying flame. It took all of my self-control not to walk into that cell and take her in my arms. "** _ **Turn and leave, it's all you can do,**_ **" I told myself. I know she loved me once, even after she married Darcy, but now … I can't be sure. I do feel my destiny has already been charted … If she doesn't love me, I will not be loved.**

He stopped reading there, though more writing was on the page. The next part dealt with Darcy, and his reaction to learning that Julia was in jail… maybe later.

Julia sighed. She was heart-broken by his resignation to accept being alone … and unloved … for the rest of his life. She was also intrigued by his thoughts of finally having fallen out of love with her, and thrilled by the things that seemed to reignite his love for her again – the very parts of her character that had seemed to be most rejected by others. It pained her to know that he ever thought that her love for him had died. She lifted his chin and turned his face to her. She clarified this point, "William, there was never a moment that I did not love you, not one, ever. I must say, I never regretted writing that note to you telling you I loved you before I married Darcy … I wondered why you never chose another. I mean, I figured there was a good chance you had decided you didn't want to marry me, but I thought you'd marry someone else someday. I think I thought you might still love me, though… and, I was glad you knew I loved you if this were true – that you didn't think your love for me was unrequited." She had always wondered what he thought when he read her note. She decided to ask, "William, would you be willing to share your thoughts from when you read my note?"

He lifted a hand to her face, slid his fingers tenderly over her cheek and her ear. He leaned towards her and gave her a light kiss. "I did not write anything … I had very little time. I had to set Constance Gardner free before anyone returned… from your wedding. She would need as much of a head start as possible to avoid being caught. I left for the Yukon immediately after the Inspector returned – before anyone else." He dropped his eyes and said, "I guess he was concerned for me and so left he left your wedding early." After a sigh, which he seemed to use to fight away tears (a reaction he'd noticed he sometimes had when someone tried to take care of him), he continued, "I didn't bring my journal. I really didn't intend to ever come back. It felt like I couldn't live my life without having at least a chance, a slight hope that I would ever be with you again." He lifted his eyes to hers again and said, "We spoke of the optimist in me … I think that part of me, well at least at the time, it felt … gone – gone, just like you were." He became choked up as he pushed on to say, "I believed a whole new life, a whole new me, might be tolerable – but trying to be me in the same life, that I didn't think I could survive." He took her face in both hands and told her, "Julia, I was so … elated to know you did love me, had always loved me all of that time, but I couldn't bear the fact that I'd lost you." Tears filled his eyes. He pushed himself to add, "Truly, it was bittersweet."

She kissed him, bringing her hands to hold his head as well. They shifted the kisses from one side to another, and then deepened them. Tears flowed down his cheeks to be taken in by each of their mouths – the salty taste and slippery liquid melting their hearts and exposing the pain. They soon were joined by Julia's tears as well. As they pulled back from their kisses, they each wiped the cheeks of the other, sharing in the recognition of their mutual pain, and trying to move on past it. William said, "I did write again after I got back, do you want to hear that?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, yes William, I do."

He found the page and read.

 **On the other side of facing the dilemma, I find that nothing is the same. I fear my life here will be lonely, and I do not have the deep-seated confidence I once did. I've made choices that have cost me … cost me so very much. But I do know I did what was right, what was necessary for me to live with myself. I so regret the strain I put on the Inspector, and … the pain I caused Julia. Will I ever be able to tell her I love her too? I know I will be … will always be … alone, but it hurts so to know that she may think I do not love her.**

 **I opened the morgue door so very quietly, closed it with the smallest click. I stood silently and watched her, in the morgue just now. I just wanted to see her – had thought that perhaps now that she was married, unavailable, I would not feel the longing for her anymore… but I still do. She was seated in front of a cabinet, organizing chemicals. Her long legs crossed, her movements graceful, this beautiful, intense woman. I'll never touch her, kiss her again. She's not mine – never will be mine. I have never hurt so badly as I did upon looking at her there…But, I'll see her tomorrow. I have her as my friend, my colleague. That will have to be enough. I can love her from afar – I've done that before. I can watch over her. Perhaps I can tell her of my love, or maybe that would hurt her more. I don't know what to do…**

 **I acted such the fool – shook her hand – like she was a man. Said she looked different, but of course she doesn't. I just need to see her differently. I didn't tell her – won't ever tell her, that I still love her with all of my heart and soul. Oh my god that hurts so. She wants to move on with our lives – and that means living as if we are just friends, just colleagues.**

 **I felt true, deep, warm happiness today. Two shooters – of course, she really is brilliant. Julia and I will be alright – friends and colleagues. I just need to see her as only existing as my friend and colleague – I can't let myself imagine her at home with her husband. Out of sight, out of mind. That's how it will have to be.**

 **Today it all changed. Today devastation overtook my ability to cope. She's gone – she's completely gone – again … forever. She said she couldn't be around me, so she had to leave the morgue … she loves me that much, so much she had to leave. I guess I can understand, for I feel the burn of the loss stronger when I'm in her presence as well. I feel like my heart left with her. Breathe. I must remember to breathe through the pain. Keep moving, when I'm moving I don't notice it as much – it's the stillness that is unbearable.**

Julia reached down to touch the page of the journal that rested in his lap. It was swollen and the writing was blotchy at the spot, and when he was writing, William had skipped a few lines to continue below it. She asked, "Was this from a tear that dropped? Were you crying when you wrote it?"

He nodded. "After I wrote this, I didn't write again until the experience of dying with Dr. Grace. I found it deepened the wounds. It didn't help me cope, it just added to my anguish," he explained. They were quiet for a time, each traveling the paths of their own thoughts.

"William, in the morgue, I remember thinking I saw you in the reflection of the glass in the cabinet door. I too realized that it was going to be even harder than I thought … to see you. When I talked myself into looking up at you, you were gone. I was relieved, but I felt the pain coming in, like the tide coming up on the shore, unavoidable, slow, and in waves." She sighed. She changed her position to rest her head on his shoulder. She moved on to another thought, "I wrote about when you visited me in the cell. Shall I read it?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and moved to reach for her journal as he said, "Yes, please do."

She found the page and read.

 **After William came down into the cells to talk with me, I found myself stunned and trying to cope, sitting on the small cot. I was so grateful that I didn't have to deal with Darcy. So many months had passed without seeing William … a part of me had wished he wouldn't come down. I knew why after he left. I had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be around him – didn't remember how beautiful his eyes are, how handsome his face … and … I think I still saw it – his love for me. There I was, wrapped up in a ball, trying my damnedest to extinguish this blazing and forbidden love I feel so strongly for him.**

She lifted her head, leaving much of the page unread and said, "Earlier you said you regretted not being able to tell me you still loved me. Not knowing – thinking you did not, it did hurt. But I must say, I'm not sure it would have hurt less if I did know. I am happy to know now that you did … But William, I was having big problems dealing with my loss of you, really big problems," she said, reaching up to rub her forehead. "And this, uh, re-ignition of my feelings, it was not good… It affected, umm … it became impossible to … hide…" She suddenly closed the journal and stood up. "Perhaps another glass of wine," she said as she walked over to the table.

William felt a rush, an urgency, in his thoughts. She had said she wanted to read about her and Darcy, and then she wasn't sure – now it seems to be related to "hiding" her feelings for me. Her anxiety was palpable. Whether she ended up sharing what this was all about or not, she needed to be reassured that she was fine. He walked up behind her, slowly, calmly, he took her hair in his hands and started to loosely braid it. She reacted immediately to his touch. Her shoulders dropped and relaxed, she leaned back into him, she exhaled deeply.

"I thought you liked it down?" she asked, the tone of her voice lowering, signaling she was settling down.

"Oh, I do. But I wanted to have better access to your neck," he explained. She tilted her head to the side, exposing her most vulnerable aspect to him. He tied a loose slip knot at the end of the braid and slid his arms around her waist. He took his time, breathing deeply, catching her smell as he leaned in to kiss and nibble and suck on her neck. The tension and angst slipped away, to be replaced by feelings of warmth and desire. William rubbed his hands across her belly, and down to the tops of her thighs, and he pressed his body more and more deeply into her back. He found her breasts, tenderly cupping his hands around them, evoking a moan from her. She felt his breath on her neck a brief second before she heard his seductive voice in her ear say, "Let's forget about the past for awhile, hmm. I want you to feel my love for you right here and now."

A mixture of joy, relief, and desire flooded into her body. He turned her around to face him – took her mouth in a passionate kiss. The pace picked up as arousal became the only focus…

There was a knock at the door. The kitchen staff needed to clear-up the remains of their dinner. "I'll get it," William said.

Julia took the opportunity to go into the bedroom and change into some new, sexy lingerie she had purchased for just such an occasion. As she tugged to fasten the last button on the top of the corset-like teal-colored silk garment, she wondered if perhaps she should have bought a bigger size. It was quite tight – but the result she saw when she glanced in the mirror was perfect. Tight enough to exaggerate her curves and create impressive cleavage. The tiny little bottoms, resembling something like very short shorts, also intensified the curve of her buttocks. They were so short that the rounded half-moons of her buttocks could be glimpsed if the angle was right. It was as she was turned, backside aimed at the mirror, twisting around to catch the view of her own rear-end, when William walked into the bedroom.

Her insides rippled and twisted with lustful arousal as she looked at his reaction to seeing her. He was paralyzed with desire. She didn't think she'd ever seen his eyes so black with the need to take her in. To add to his torment, she reached back and stroked the cheek of her buttocks. Still holding his eyes, she turned to face him and asked, "Do you like it?"

William nodded – he seemed unable to speak.

She slowly walked to him, continuing her questions, "Would you like to touch?"

He nodded again.

"Feel my warm body pressing against its stitches, straining the buttons?" she said, now standing only a few inches in front of him.

Much to her pleasure, William swallowed. He was trying to speak. His voice was still too dry, so he swallowed again. He cleared his throat, "A-hem," and said, "You are stunning. I …"

She slid her hands along his chest and then wrapped them around his neck. Their bodies still apart, her voice still inches from his ear, she whispered, "Please put your hands on me William."

Her words traveled, like the flame at the end of a fuse, directly to his groin. His urgency inflamed so quickly that he became aware of being able to feel, through his trousers, the heat of her thigh just under her little silky shorts. He was winded, trying to find a way to breathe. He opened his hands wide and took her waist in his grasp. The material was so smooth, her warmth penetrating through it. He could feel her lowest rib under his thumb. He slipped his hands up her ribcage, touching the bottom of her breasts with his thumbs. His hands roamed across the curves of her body, stalling to feel her breasts mold around his fingers, he pinched her nipples, then undid the top three buttons. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her deeply. He lowered his body, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her up to bring the cleavage between her breasts up to his mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pushed her up against the wall. His mouth devoured her breasts.

Julia placed her feet on the ground and turned her attention to removing his shirt. She wanted to feel his skin through the fabric. She had to push him back to get to the buttons. He stretched forward, lips reaching for hers. She put her fingers to his lips and said, "Take off your clothes." He did.

He took her by the wrists, lifted her arms up above her head, and pinned her wrists to the wall with one of his hands. He looked her in the eyes, drowning in their blue depths, before he leaned into her, taking her breath away with the pressure and the pleasure, giving her skin the touch it longed for. He ravaged her body with his free hand, melting and growing more and more with each moan she released from her lips. "You're driving me wild," his raspy, hot voice flooded into her ear, burrowed deeper into her brain. Then he turned her around to press her chest against the wall. She left her hands up above her head and he slid one hand around to knead and torture her breast while his other hand slipped inside of her silky shorts. His mouth attacked her neck. He pushed two fingers inside of her. She dropped as her womb flipped over with delight.

"William, please," her husky voice demanded. He used both hands to slide the tiny shorts off of her. He turned her around again. Her hands, now free, reached around to cravingly scratch his back, sure to leave marks. Their kisses were frenzied, rushed, hungry. Her breath rumbled in his ear. Again she pleaded, "Please William." Her insides twisted tighter and tighter. "Please …" she asked again, her breath hot against his neck. Her deep moan battered his eardrum, in anticipation, as he lowered himself and lined up his entry into her. He pushed into her, firmly, slowly. She fell heavier in his arms, prompting him to push even harder, pinning her tighter against the wall. The cadence of his rhythm was quick, the tone strong. Julia burst over the edge first, waves of her passion teasing him beyond his ability to hold off any longer. He exploded as he powered deeper into her, uttering his only sound, "Ohh, Julia."

They clung together, waiting for recovery. He peppered her face with light kisses. In between labored breaths, William said to her, "Oh my god, Julia, I am so glad I married you," and then, sounding slightly embarrassed by his declaration, and its clear lustful motivations, he chuckled.

"Well that makes two of us William," she replied. They got into their pajamas and went back to the couch.

Julia asked, "William, what sorts of things are you imagining I … I am struggling about sharing with you?"

He paused in thought for a moment. He replied, "Well, I was thinking it might be that you had gotten pregnant and you had to have an abortion because you would be unable to survive childbirth," offering her an expression of being unsure.

She explained that she had not gotten pregnant, as a matter of fact, it was her lack of becoming pregnant that solidified for her the belief that she truly was sterile – in the sense of being unable to conceive. Darcy had refused to use contraception. This explained why, when so many years ago, she and William were looking for green fairies and she would not make love without protection, but now they made love without it, quite literally, all the time.

William picked up his journal and said, "Well then, I think it might have to do with, umm, with Darcy's … umm, his … Julia, umm," he turned his journal to the page he had been reading from earlier, about when she was in the jail. He glanced down at it. After organizing his thoughts he said, "When I called Darcy to let him know you'd been arrested, he asked what for, and I told him for teaching women about contraception… His reaction disturbed me, stirred me to concern and even anger, but I pushed these feelings away because I was trying so very hard to keep my feelings for you from him, and I thought if I, umm, challenged him, then he would become suspicious, that he would be more likely to think I still loved you."

"What did he say?" she asked.

William read Darcy's response from his journal, "Of course she would wait until I was out of town to defy me." William lifted his eyes to meet hers. Her anxiety was back. He knew he'd hit on it.

Julia dropped her head down. Very slightly, she began to tremble. He scooped her up in his arms. Her voice muffled against his chest, she explained, "Oh William, he was so jealous, and it made him … do things that controlled me and intimidated me. Umm, I mean … I'm probably over-reacting." She sat up, pushed herself away from him. She sat up taller and continued, "There's a good chance I've exaggerated it… Umm..." She caught his eye. Her sigh signaled she'd made a decision. She reached for her journal, found a page, and read.

 **I denied it, but Darcy knows – knows that last night I had a dream in which I was making love with William. I'm sure I called out William's name. I claimed he must have misheard, that I didn't remember any such thing. But I do. Last night William and I stayed late in his office and he used a stereoscope to show that the mayor and Alderman Hidell were not seated lined up in a straight line – that my idea, that there were two shooters, was probably right. He was so excited, and I felt that wild stirring in my heart, and my loins, again. I'm not surprised that I had the dream. It was exquisite –William and I were making love in his back room with the curtain pulled.**

Julia held the page, but closed the journal and said, "You know, William, I feel the same kind of pleasure when I have dreams like these as I would if it were really happening."

William nodded, "Yes, I know. I have been lying next to you when you've had them. Umm, Darcy would not have had any doubt." She sighed, she knew this was true.

She explained, "After that, Darcy asked me to leave the morgue. I was planning on leaving anyway – he knew that, that's why I had them hire Dr. Grace. But Darcy pushed for me to leave immediately, acted like I would leave because he demanded it. We fought about it. In the end, I decided it didn't matter whether or not he thought I did it because he could make me or because I knew I needed to ... because I would suffer unbearably seeing you every day, umm, and I would probably keep having those dreams, and Darcy deserved better than that."

William's big, brown eyes ducked down to capture hers, hold them in a shared gaze, and said, "And that's when you came to me to say good-bye?" She nodded.

Julia returned her attention to her journal. She found the next page and read.

 **When I opened the paper this morning, the front page was missing. Darcy said the maid must have taken it. It was so odd. I bought a paper on my way to my practice. The front page article was about William's solving of the murders of the mayor and Alderman Hidell. It was a big deal – he had brought to justice a bigwig, Alderman Ketchum, who had confessed to conspiracy to murder, killing the mayor to divert attention away from the real motive, killing Alderman Hidell. Darcy had to be the one who removed the article – he was keeping me from reading about William. He had to know I would buy a paper to see what was cut out. It feels so creepy. I think he did it to try to subconsciously scare me into forgetting about William.**

Still looking down at her journal, she said, "William, he cut out every article you were in from that day forward."

William sat up, placed his elbows on his knees, chin in his hand, contemplating the situation. William took a deep breath and said, "So that's how the article and picture in the paper this morning are connected to all of this – you imagined, if you were still with Darcy, that the article would have been cut out?" Julia nodded. William continued, "It seems Darcy was obsessed with keeping you and your thoughts, and I guess your dreams too, away from … me." He sat back and turned to face her. He played with a curl that had not made it into her braid. Eventually he said, "It is creepy, Julia. And it would unnerve anyone to have their spouse doing such things… But, knowing you, I'm surprised you didn't tell him to stop." He asked, "You didn't confront him about it?"

She shook her head and turned away. Shame had crept in, and she was not able to look him in the eye. "William …" she couldn't finish. She had been too weak, too invested in getting along with Darcy, too drowned in guilt for having married him when she knew she shouldn't have, to stand up for herself. Darcy had taken control, and she had let him. Only rarely did she fight for the causes she so passionately cared about, and whenever she did attend a Women's Rights meeting or a rally, she tried to hide it from Darcy. Theirs had become a marriage of secrets and unspoken arrangements. Julia sighed – what she had ultimately allowed was so much worse than tolerating Darcy cutting newspaper articles out of the morning paper. She wasn't sure she would be able to tell William about it without becoming so nauseous she would vomit. She decided to try.

She kept her eyes down on her journal, but she was not reading. She told him; "The night we saw each other for the first time in such a long time – when I had been arrested, umm, I had another dream with you. This time I didn't wake up on my own, but instead Darcy woke me up. He was shaking me very hard and yelling at me to shut up and cut it out. He stormed out of the room. I followed him and we argued. He screamed at me about the fact that I was _**his**_ wife. He forbade me to ever see you again. He was so furious I couldn't reason with him. Umm, a few days later you asked me to help you with Anna and the ruse to free her from the Black Hand… I could not deny you, William." She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his, her need to be there for him, her love for him, was apparent from her look. She took a deep breath and continued, "I lied to Darcy, told him I was putting in some extra hours at my practice… Oh, my god, there is so much to this. Let me find it in here." She searched through the journal, found the page and read.

 **William was so distraught, I don't think he could just have been acting, when he reacted to Anna's "death." I am ashamed of my jealousy of his affection for Anna – William deserves to have a love. But my heart truly ached for him that he would have to let her go. After he said good-bye to Anna and came back to me, I told him that I was so sorry for his loss. That I knew he had suffered the loss of so many women, his mother when he was only eight years old, and then his sister Susannah, who first left him to be cloistered and then he lost her again after they had reconnected because she died. And now Anna … My words must have hit a nerve, because he teared-up, …but I think he was going to add to the list. I think he was going to say, "And you," but he stopped himself at "And …" Then the next thing he said was that he was sure I needed to get home to Darcy – making me even more sure that he was going to say that he was hurt by losing me too, as his mind traveled to why I was actually lost to him – my marriage to another.**

 **It doesn't surprise me that I had the dream. William looked absolutely gorgeous in the baseball knickerbockers. I couldn't stop thinking about seeing him dressed that way. Then, to top it off, our conversation hovered dangerously close to him telling me he loved me, missed me, still wanted me… Oh my god it felt so good, having William's body over mine, pushing me hard, down into the mattress in his small room. I moaned and he tried to quiet me, "Shh, Mrs. Kitchen doesn't allow visitors," he whispered. Then he went back to pushing deeper and deeper inside of me. I couldn't hold it in though – I called out his name. In the dream it was Mrs. Kitchen who burst in, angry, demanding we separate … But in reality it was Darcy. And he wasn't demanding we separate, he was on top of me, penetrating me, insisting that I stop calling out William's name. "Never again, do you hear me," he said, breathing the threat into my ear. He commanded, "The only one who will ever be between these legs is me – your husband." I pushed at him, told him 'no,' demanded he got off of me … get out of me. But in the end, I was not willing to really hurt him. At one point I had the lamp in my hand and was thinking about hitting him over the head with it. I did not. He finished and left. I was furious – and yet felt totally helpless. I so want out of this marriage, but I am stuck.**

Julia looked up at William. Concern, shock, even helplessness could be read on his face. She'd never really let herself think of what Darcy had done to her that night as 'rape,' but now, seeing William's face in reaction to it, she knew that it was. She had to turn away, shame had overtaken her again.

William moved close to her, tried to get her to look at him. He sighed, settled. It was clear that he was going to stay right there next to her, not pushing, but not leaving either. Time passed. Julia decided to tell him what she was feeling. "William … I feel so ashamed, that I let him do that to me, that he thought so little of my power and volition as a person to do it to me, and, umm, part of me thinks I deserved it – I had married him when I shouldn't have and then … I couldn't love him, and caused him such pain by being in love with someone else.

William touched her face, turned her to face him, and said, "Julia, there is nothing you could have done that would have made it alright for him to do that to you. He really had no right …"

Julia interrupted him, "He did William, legally a husband cannot "rape" his own wife. He has a right to sexual access to her … to me."

William sighed. He looked away. Truthfully he felt defeated. He could not see a way to help Julia feel better … and seeping up slowly, he felt anger.

Julia's attention turned back to her journal. "There's more," she said, "It gets worse."

William's jaw clenched, he noticed that his hands had curled up into fists. Anger surged the pumping of blood through his body. His mind's eye saw his fist smashing against Darcy's face, the memory hitting him at full blast. "Julia," he started, trying to sound as calm as possible, "Do you remember the way I hit the man from the Black Hand after Anna was supposedly killed?"

Their eyes met. She nodded.

After a strong exhale William continued, "I was angry at that man – he, and the criminal organization he worked for, had harmed Anna, killed her fiancée, drove her into hiding, cost me the chance to be with her… if I had wanted to…" He stood up, walked over to the window and stared out at the street below. Julia waited. She sensed he had more to say. Her mind replayed the brutal force with which William had hit the other man. She remembered being worried that he might even end up killing him.

William turned back to look at her from across the room. He said, "When I punched Darcy, I was mad…But if I had known what he had done to you … umm …" He shook his head, "I …" he walked back to her. "Julia," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet, then holding her face, softly, in his hands, "I'm so sorry … I didn't protect you… It would have taken every ounce of control I have not to beat him to death, but I would have scared him. I'd have put him in his place – made sure he knew he had better not ever do anything like that to you again... Even if it meant I had to face charges… And knowing Darcy, he wouldn't have had the guts to press charges anyway because of the scandal it would have caused." He dropped one of his hands and tenderly stroked her cheek with the other. He finished with, "I wish you had told me."

"I wanted to William, but I felt so trapped. And I … felt so ashamed. And I worried that if you did help me it would end up costing you somehow – like you'd end up in jail or losing your job, and I couldn't be that selfish, not after everything I'd already put you through. And, umm, I wasn't even sure if you still loved me, if you would have done anything about it anyway, if I told you," she explained. She sat back down, pulled his hand, asking him to join her. He sat down next to her. She continued, "So I coped the best I could."

She pushed against his chest, pressing him into the back of the couch, and she pulled up the bottom of her nightgown so she could straddle him, and climbed into his lap. With her eyes down on the buttons of his pajama top, she fiddled with the buttons and said, "I feel cared for by your urge to protect me William." She kissed his cheek, moved down to his neck, nipped and kissed some more.

They kissed. Her love for him managed to draw his emotions away from the anger. He softened, yielding to the growing feelings of warmth and arousal within. He tucked his fingers into her hair – deepened the kiss. She felt him becoming aroused under her. She broke off the kiss and asked in his ear, "Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

He took a deep breath, taking in her scent and told her he loved her. She told him she knew he did. Tenderly, William pulled back and said, "No, I'm ready now … tell me the rest."

She slid off his lap to sit next to him and picked up the journal. She began reading from the same page.

 **This morning there was an article cut out of the paper again. I sat across from Darcy at our long table and tried to decide whether to confront him about the newspaper … and about last night. He pulled the article out of his jacket pocket, unfolded it and started to read it out loud. I was already concerned, for he had never done this before. His voice was so cold when he read it, "Dr. Ogden announced the victim dead at the scene." He folded the article back up and returned it to his pocket. It felt like the long table suddenly began to shrink – like he was sitting so close to me I could feel his breath in my face. Invaded, I felt totally invaded, and scared, and furious too. I could tell I wasn't breathing, but I seemed unable to do so. He mimicked me telling him I had patients at the clinic, so I was going to go in for a few hours. He said I lied to him – That I couldn't be trusted! He's going to have me followed! And he directly addressed William – that I should stay away from him. He even told me to "wipe William out of my mind" – as if I hadn't tried. Then he added in the incident when I was on the front page for supporting the rally for contraception legislation – saying I broke my promise to him about that too – and to make sure I stayed away from the whole contraception business. I stood up against him, told him he wouldn't dare… but it was all bark and no bite. I can't really do anything to stop him… I don't really know whether he will hire someone or not. Besides, I wasn't going to go see William anyway. I feel completely helpless and powerless.**

Julia looked away from her journal for a moment to say, "I don't know if he ever did have somebody follow me. I had become paranoid and thought so." She closed the journal and said, "After that night, Darcy established a pattern. He would want to have sex and then leave to go sleep in a different room. If I told him I didn't want to, he would accuse me of being frigid and not loving him and not being a good wife to him. I went along, let him do it. I was glad when he would leave the room. I didn't want him sleeping next to me anymore. To some degree I felt safer this way. I could sleep. But I don't think I dreamt of you anymore anyway."

Julia leaned over to place the journal on the table. She was going to tell him the rest. She settled next to him on the couch again.

William rubbed his forehead and said, "It sounds truly awful. You were so isolated and alone, and … desperate…"

"I was," she replied. "And then, Gillies abducted me, and as you well know, buried me alive," she continued, "William, I laid in that coffin, terrified … but, the one thing that happened was I became convinced that you loved me, and, umm, even if you didn't find me – and I really believed you would, I felt at peace because of that. It is so odd that an insane man like Gillies could be the one to show me how much you loved me, but he was completely convinced that his terrorizing, and possible killing of _me_ , would have the ultimate tumultuous effect on _you_ … And of course, it turns out he was right."

"That he was," William said.

Julia turned to face him and pulled her knees up onto the couch. She rested her elbow on the back of the couch and held her chin in her hand. Her free hand stroked William's chest. She continued, "As you expected, Darcy was quite upset about the whole ordeal – You know, I never thought of it until now, but I guess he probably never hired someone to follow me, because if he had they would have seen Gillies abduct me, and maybe things never would have gotten that dire. Anyway, Darcy was insistent that Gillies was wrong about your being in love with me. Darcy said you had told him that your love for me was "dead and buried." I remember yelling at him about how funny it was that he chose those words – after I had just been nearly dead and buried! … But, I have to admit that my confidence in my belief that you did love me was shaken, I doubted it again – thought you just frantically worked to save me out of a sense of responsibility and care for me as a friend. I said this to Darcy, and he seemed relieved. I guess because he suspected that I would be more likely to let you go if I thought you didn't love me. Truth is, my love for you does not seem to be tied to your love for me. I found that I kept loving you whether you loved me back or not."

William said it was the same with his love for her.

She reached up and placed her fingers under his chin. Then she turned him to face her. Their eyes met – powerfully. They both knew she was going to say something important. "I decided to go and see you the next day despite Darcy's warnings and the possibility that he was having me followed. I had to see you William. I was worried that you would be blaming yourself… I'll never ever forget the look on your face, tears welling up in your eyes, voice scratchy. You were blaming yourself, and upset. I remember exactly what you said, "Never again do I want to feel such desperation." Then I knew – really knew, that you still loved me, had always loved me, never stopped loving me… would _always_ love me. Instantly, William, I didn't feel alone anymore. I told you I knew you would save me…"

William nodded. She noticed he looked choked up.

Julia started to cry, "William, I didn't feel helpless anymore. I decided to go see Dr. Roberts. I needed to because of the nightmares. Everything changed then."

William shifted, pulling one knee up on the couch and, mirroring her position, he placed an elbow on the back of the couch and rested his chin in his hand. Even though the tears dripping down her cheek were happy ones, he decided to wipe them away.

She sniffled and then went on, "I asked Dr. Roberts to help me with my dreams – the nightmares about being buried alive, but also the ones where I was making love with you. Somehow, after I knew you loved me – would always love me, I felt able to go on. I was married to Darcy, and I had to try to make that work, and getting rid of these dreams was essential in working towards that end. Dr. Roberts told me that hypnotism would likely help stop the dreams, but that I should know it would also probably halt the feelings that caused the dreams. In the case of the nightmares that meant stifling the fear, which of course I thought was a good thing… But in the case of stopping my dreams of you, well … that might result in bringing an end to my love for you. I didn't want to lose that William. I figured I would have to find a way to live with the dreams of you.

William looked contemplative, like he had figured something out. Julia had seen the look many times before. He said, "Julia, that's how Roberts knew to tell me, when he hypnotized me in the time machine, that I ended up having a son with _**you**_. He knew I would believe it because he knew I wanted it to be true. That's how he knew!"

Julia sat up straighter too, excited by the connection he'd made. She agreed, "Of course William … Of course!"

She slid closer to him on the couch and brought the topic back to her point. She took a deep breath and said, "It was psychiatry that really helped me cope with my situation – well not so much cope as take charge and change. You see, I had spent most of my life fighting to be in control … The ultimate example of this was when I left you to go to Buffalo _to take control_ over your ability to hurt me by rejecting me when you learned I was sterile." William nodded. She continued, "In reality I did not take control – I was like a paper being blown in the wind, and I ended up going whatever way I was pushed."

He tilted his head at her and wrinkled up his face, the expression showing his doubt, or maybe his confusion. She wasn't totally sure, but she knew she needed to clarify.

She sighed to slow herself down and tried to explain, "For instance, I didn't want to marry Darcy, but instead of calling off the wedding, I gave _you_ control – I waited for _you_ to stop my wedding. Do you see?"

He nodded 'yes.'

She explained, "William, thanks to psychiatry I learned to reflect and pay more attention to determining what it was I wanted. And I became less likely to accept the will of others…"

One of William's eyebrows rose up and he argued, "You've always seemed pretty independent and self-determined to me."

She looked away to think. Looking back at him she said, "Well, I don't know for sure, but I think it is something that is more likely to happen with women. Umm, but … with Darcy I was letting him control me and … I started saying "no". I said "no" when he wanted to have sex .. and I said "no" when …"

Taking her head in his hand, William asked, "Did he force you?"

Her head shaking 'no,' Julia said, "No. He just stopped asking… When I bumped into you at the asylum, I didn't worry about what Darcy would think, or whether he would find out. We even started working on the case of the Time Machine together. I was no longer concerned … or effected by Darcy. I did what I wanted. He no longer had control over me. It completely changed my life. I think it's why I ended up being a psychiatrist, so I could help others the way I had been helped."

William pulled back a little and asked, "Is that how it was when you came to the Policeman's Ball? Did you just do what you wanted?"

She exhaled deeply, "No William. I would not have done that to Darcy. He was my husband and I would not have been unfaithful to him, or risked such a scandal to such a degree… No, umm, it was him actually. He told me to go be with whom I wanted. Of course he knew that was you… I think he decided he didn't want to be a, umm, he didn't want to be the kind of person he had become – controlling and petty… Or maybe he just accepted that I was not really his anymore. I'm not sure."

She changed her position to rest her head on his shoulder. They were quiet for a few moments. Then Julia asked, "So, I coped with my desperation by turning to psychiatry. How did you cope William?"

He took a deep breath, giving himself some time to think. "Well, of course, I poured myself into my work… And church." Julia nodded. "And I went away to a horse ranch once in awhile. I found that riding helped me feel … less alone. I had contact with another living being, I guess." He lifted her chin and turned to face her more directly and said, "And I … umm, climbed trees. I've always loved to climb trees. It helped."

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. "I also climbed trees … when I was younger. Particularly at the lake-house. It was often my rendition of running away from home – when I felt unloved or misunderstood. I guess it was mostly when my mother had gotten sick. I would climb a tree and watch the house, waiting and hoping for someone to come care about me. No one ever came – except Ruby," she said.

"Well, of course. She loved and cared about you didn't she? … You know it makes me think we need to adopt at least two children, Julia." She raised an eyebrow at him. He continued, "Now you and I have no one except Ruby and Jasper, well I have my father and Jasper, I guess. But I would want our child to have a sibling … to ensure a feeling of having someone who cares about you, besides just your parents."

Her look softened. She lowered her hand to stoke the collar of his pajama top, play with the buttons, and said, "Agreed. I also think we should adopt _two_ children… Now, if I remember our conversation from the other day correctly, that means you would like to adopt three children, hmm?"

With a small chuckle, he nodded… The signs of a sly smile grew on his face. "So, umm, you liked the baseball uniform?" he asked as he took one of her curls in his fingers.

She leaned in closer to him and said, "Actually, it was the way _you_ _looked_ in the baseball uniform that I liked William. It was quite … revealing, umm, which is good in your case."

He pushed her down on the couch and kissed her, very, very deeply. Within seconds they both felt the room starting to spin. Their breathing deepened and quickened. Arousal erupted inside of them. He broke off the kiss to enjoy ravaging her neck, and said into her ear, "What did the baseball suit … reveal that was so pleasing?"

Her insides flipped over with the question. She was not sure she could answer. Words were not coming.

He reached down and slid her nightgown up to her waist. Then he tucked her under his body and as he let his weight sink into her he whispered in her ear, "Do you like to feel the weight of my body pressing down into yours?"

Julia had to swallow, her voice had become dry. She felt dizzy, and hungry for him. Through her heavy breaths she replied, "Yes," she moaned, "Yes." She felt his hand sliding over her body, hesitating in just the right places to huskily knead her flesh. It was demanding. She moaned again.

He reached his fingers into the luscious, slippery center of her folds. William exhaled, causing a rumble to surround her ear drum, drift into her brain, and moaned, "Oh, Julia."

Her body reacted, twitched and arched up strongly into him. He reached down and loosened the drawstring on his pajama bottoms, then lowered them. He rolled over and pushed up into her, searing them both with pleasure. Julia's moan drove him wild with desire. His pumping was fast, rough and untamed.

"Oh my god, don't stop William," she cried, "Please don't stop." Julia's hips joined in the motion. She was close, very close. "Deeper," she pleaded. She dug her fingernails into his back. He moaned in response, and then bit her neck. With that, Julia hurled over the edge – bursts of warm contractions spreading throughout her, filling her with ecstasy.

William felt her muscles ripple around him, pull and suck on him, demanding the release he so desired. He let go, feeling overwhelmed by a flood of explosions of tingling heat. His rapid breath pounded against her ear as he melted into her, finally and completely spent.

In the afterglow, they laid together, enjoying the ride as the world slowed back down and they fell into sink with it.

Once she was able to speak again, Julia said, "When we have our house, I want a much bigger couch." Her comment was rewarded with one of her favorite sounds in the world, his laugh.

She could tell he was smiling when she heard him reply, "More room for the cat."

"Oh, umm, I don't really want a cat. I was just teasing you," she declared.

He exhaled and said, "Good – That'll make it less complicated." He rolled over a little to press his back into the back of the couch and leaned an elbow on the couch, resting his chin in his hand. His free hand slid over her silky shoulder.

Julia rolled her eyes and joked, "Oh yes, all of our problems, all of our complications, can be solved by getting rid of the cat – kind of like a scapegoat but it's a scapecat." Julia giggled at her own joke.

"Hmm," he answered, and then changed the subject, "I spoke to the contractor. He said we can build the house in about four months. If we start now we can avoid the winter, and the frozen ground. We need a lot. There's one on Jarvis?"

Julia pushed at him and complained, "No way. There's no way I'm going to have that arrogant, snobby Mrs. Smythe as my neighbor again." William chuckled. "It has to be close enough that you can still cycle to work. As a doctor I know it keeps you healthy, and as a woman I appreciate what it does for your physique, and as your lover I really …" She stopped suddenly … _**and blushed**_.

"Julia Ogden you are blushing!" William declared with glee. "What were you going to say?" he demanded.

She turned her face to whisper in his ear, "As your lover I really enjoy the … powerful thrusting."

"Umm," he said as he pulled her closer and kissed and nibbled on her neck. "I'd have to say there are definitely some benefits to having powerful thrusting," he agreed.

She could feel his big grin against her neck. Joy soaked her heart.

William placed his head in his hand again, regaining eye contact with her. He said, "We need a big lot – so we can have a big yard…"

"I know, I know … for the millions of children and … the dog," she finished with a wink.

"We agreed on two children, "millions" are not necessary … What do you think, a boy and a girl?" he asked.

She reached up and stroked his cheek. She stalled, thinking, and then said, "Well we don't have to decide right now. First we need the house, and probably to hire a nanny, then we can adopt the children and bring them home."

William nodded in agreement and then leaned closer to her face. A slight smirk grew on his face when he said, "and the dog."

Julia rolled her eyes again and kissed him, "Yes, the dog too."


	7. Chapter 7

Journal Journeys_What Goes Around Comes Around

When Julia got home she was glad to see that William had not yet arrived. She really didn't want to deal with seeing him right now. She was still furious about earlier, but she also felt so troubled – like there were fourteen different emotions streaming around through her body, and she couldn't decide which one to act upon. After she called up and ordered a bottle of wine – admittedly her first priority based on her degree of restlessness, she went into the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She found herself staring down at the bed as the memory of herself and William making love this morning replayed in her mind for the umpteenth time today. As had happened all the other times, within seconds her insides were flipping over and tightening with a feeling of superb, elevated arousal. Her mind raced ahead, entertaining the thought of dressing in her most recently purchased sexy lingerie to seduce William when he got home.

Only a moment later, she felt embarrassment float up and overtake the feelings of desire. It took every ounce of her psychological training not to push the shame away, but instead, to chase after it as it made for a speedy retreat down into her subconscious. The memory of being in William's office this afternoon began to solidify – along with their conversation, or rather argument.

She heard his key in the door and decided to change into a more comfortable dress, giving up on the lingerie for now.

He saw her hat and purse in the foyer and registered that she was already home. A part of him wanted to turn right around and head back out the door. " _She's been so very difficult to … deal with lately,"_ he thought. He reached up and rubbed his forehead – he felt a head ache coming on … again. He let go a big sigh and then placed his hat on the rack.

"William?" she called from the bedroom.

He took a deep breath and made an effort to stand up tall and then walked into the bedroom. Julia was struggling to undo her corset, twisted around and stretching her arms back behind herself in an attempt to reach the bow at the bottom to untie it. Each of them froze when their eyes met. Their look was long, each struggling to read the other. Behind it, there was warmth. William broke the trance first, "Allow me," he said.

Before she even felt his hands touch the garment, she began to feel desire for him blossoming in her womb. He untied the corset in silence. When he finished, he sighed. In the reflection in the mirror, Julia could see him reach up and rub his forehead, causing another emotion to stir within her – guilt. She regretted her part in the stress he was feeling, and to be honest, she felt she had made a big contribution to it – hence the guilt. She dropped her eyes and sighed. She so wanted to fix it.

William removed his jacket, vest and tie, and undid the top buttons on his shirt while Julia continued to undress. He offered to order dinner, asked her what she wanted and went to make the call. She put on a casual yellow dress, choosing comfort over appearance, and headed out to join him. Just as she found herself wondering what happened to the wine she had ordered there was a knock at the door. She answered it and happily collected the bottle. As she poured herself a glass, she noticed that William had settled on the couch and was reading the latest copy of _Scientific American_. " _He had been polite enough_ ," she thought, " _but he clearly wasn't comfortable with her – of course, it would be unreasonable to expect him to be._ " The guilt slid back up into her consciousness. It drove her to say, "William … I'm sorry about earlier today." Her words floated in the room, waiting to be picked up on, acknowledged.

William searched inside himself to find the energy, confidence, and hope he needed to respond. Not finding it, he closed the magazine and coached himself to be honest. Without looking up he said, "Truthfully Julia, I am just very confused…"

She had to admit that she was too. Her own behavior as of late puzzled her, and she regretted the roller-coaster of emotions that she had been throwing his way. She sighed and answered, "Yes, I know." She knew that if she brought up what happened in his office earlier they would likely end up arguing again. She was trying to think of a way to do so without having that happen. The silence between them lasted quite long.

William lifted his eyes to meet hers and broke the silence, "Julia, umm … I am … You knew when you married me that I was quite conservative, that I wanted to wait till we were married to … umm, to make love. You even honored my wish in this respect even though we both knew you would rather not wait… I don't understand why you would now expect that I would not be … uh, uncomfortable with making love …" He shook his head and, once again, started rubbing his forehead. He sighed, "…making love in my office – in the middle of the day no less. I just …"

She dropped her head and quietly corrected, "Not in your office – in the back room, and with the curtain closed." Now, on hindsight, and considering his point of view, it did seem to be a somewhat unreasonable request. She was working on building up the courage to tell him this.

William shook his head more aggressively and continued, "And then, to … to threaten me with your infidelity …" She felt his eyes focused on her, demanding she face him. "To say that if I was not interested … and by the way – Whatever made you think I wasn't interested? … that then you would …"

She lifted her head and caught his eye. She looked so hopeful. She asked, "You were interested? You wanted to …"

William got up and walked over to her. He stood very close to her and slid his fingers into her curls. "Julia," he said, "Part of why I so don't want you to proposition me so … assertively in, umm, at work is because when I do get aroused, um … it takes awhile to … to return back to … normal … and"

"William, I …" she had trouble holding his eyes. Try as she might she could not say it while looking at him so, eyes still down on his chest, she said, "I thought it was because you didn't find me attractive … anymore."

His jaw dropped – he was stunned, he really couldn't even believe it. "Not find you attractive … You think I said no to you because I don't find you attractive? Julia, that just doesn't make any sense … Um, I mean, couldn't you feel my … umm, my desire for you? Didn't it seem obvious that I was tempted, that I was having a hard time not … not scooping you up and having my way with you, umm, or letting you have your way with me, in the back room?" he asked, then lifting her chin to force her to look at him.

She softly touched his cheek and then gave him a light kiss. She turned away from him, walked to the couch and sat down. She said, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her, "I have been very … insecure about that lately."

William threw his arms out to the side and asked, "Why? Why would you doubt my desire for you, Julia?" He took a seat next to her on the couch. "Honestly, just this morning we …"

There was a knock at the door. Dinner had arrived. William decided to finish, "We made love this morning Julia, and, at least for me, it was … very passionate, and honestly, absolutely amazing. There's no way we could make love … _like that_ … without me being intensely aroused by you – and you being similarly aroused by me, no?" He got up and headed for the door, but waited for her answer before he opened it. She nodded yes, finding she was reminded of her inability to get it out of her mind all day.

"That was less than twelve hours ago, Julia," he continued, "How could you think something that powerful could just evaporate into thin air in a matter of hours?" After taking a deep breath, he turned to face the door and opened it to let the servers in. As they rolled in the cart and set the table, William signaled to Julia, asking if she had any money in her purse for a tip. She walked over to stand next to him, searching the purse for the appropriate change. She was close enough that he could smell her. He intentionally took in her scent, and with it he felt the growth of the warm, tender feelings so associated with the fragrance in his heart. He reached up to tuck an unruly curl behind her ear. She turned to him and they shared one of those looks they both so loved – charged, intense, re-affirming. Julia handed one of the servers the tip and they thanked them.

Door closed and alone, they stepped closer together. William pushed her softly back into the wall and kissed her deeply. Instantly their minds began to feel the effects of their chemistry, a delicious swirling and spinning mixed the sensations of hot breath, moving and molding flesh, and the taste of the other. As William's attentions moved to her neck, Julia said, her voice giving away her state of arousal, "It will get cold."

"Oh, it seems quite warm to me," William replied. He continued to ravage her neck. His hands drifted down to her waist. He felt a jolt directly to his groin as he realized there was only the thin fabric of the dress between his fingers and her body.

Julia placed her lips very softly against his ear and whispered, "No corset." His hands immediately began their excited exploration of her body, sliding first up along each rib to cup and press against her breasts, pushing them together before slipping back down along her flesh to find her hip bones and then behind her to swim across her buttocks and the arch in her back.

"Mmm," he moaned. Suddenly he wanted the dress off. He stepped back to take a look at it. There were corset like laces in the front. He began to loosen them. Julia unbuttoned another button on his shirt. He realized that even with the laces undone, the dress had another piece of fabric under the lacings, and could not be removed this way. He reached behind her, searching for how it was fastened behind her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through his hair, scratching him somewhat desperately as she pulled him closer and kissed him.

He broke off the kiss and said, "Julia, this dress confounds me," with some degree of frustration in his voice.

She pushed him back and said, "Let me show you." Then she reached down to take a hold of the dress and pulled it off over her head. Once it was removed, she stood before him completely naked, with a few more of her curls dancing free. She dropped the dress on top of her purse and took in the look of him as he reacted to the sight of her. Enjoying it immensely, she placed her hands on her hips and wiggled them for him, knowing this would drive him over the edge – which it did and he pounced on her. His hands took her waist and his strong arms pulled her into him as he leaned his upper body so hard into her he pushed her shoulders back towards the wall, forming her body to his liking, arched and dipped back. He kissed her very, very deeply, his tongue expressing what he so wanted with the lower parts of their bodies.

William broke off the kiss and pulled back – trying to regain control. He took a deep breath and said, "You see Julia, that's another reason I don't want to make love to you in public… It's bad enough that the Inspector and George have seen you … naked, but I want this for me, and me only. I don't want other men to see you … like this. I know it's possessive, but this … (He dropped his eyes to her body and then back) …. is mine."

She stepped back to him and kissed him.

When she moved her lips down to his jaw and then to his neck he continued, "You know I get jealous. I think that's why I got so mad when you said that if I wasn't interested then you would go find someone else who was."

She pushed him back – caught his eye. Her face began to wrinkle, showing her concern. She said, "But William, I never, never would… You have to know that…" She began to cry. Her voice scratchy and strained she said, "Please William, I would never be unfaithful to you …" She fell against him, bordering on sobbing and said, her choked up voice muffled by his chest, "William, please don't leave me, please."

William looked up to the heavens and rolled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and said, "What have I ever said or done that would make you think I would leave you?"

She pushed him away and went back to the couch. She curled up into a ball with her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. She forced herself to breathe, trying to gain control of her crying.

He thought she looked cold, she was unclothed after all. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off.

Straining to say the words, Julia's face wrinkled with pain as she explained, "You were … you just said that you were … you were mad at me. I think you still are. And …" She paused and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "And I think you're bored with me … that I don't excite you like I used to. Like you'd rather be at work than with me," she claimed, bursting into even stronger tears.

William took her by the hand and pulled her off of the couch. He put his shirt on her and buttoned a few of the buttons. Then he lifted up the bottom of the shirt and wiped her cheeks with it. She took it from him and wiped her nose as well, then dropped the shirt to let it hang down again. It seemed her crying had stopped. They each took a deep breath.

He really didn't know what to say. He sighed, prompting her to lift her eyes to meet his. "Julia, all of those worries and concerns are unfounded. They simply are not true. Yes, I was mad, but I'm not …" he said, but abruptly stopped when she reached over to stroke his bare chest, hesitating to pinch one of his nipples. Her hands slid down his shoulders, massaging and kneading his biceps before slipping in to rub his stomach and then back up his chest again.

Arousal once again steamed through his body. He fought it, wanting to address her fears. Doing his best to ignore her amorous attentions, he took her head in his hands, tilted his head to find her ear, and, his voice husky and low, said, "I told you years ago that there was nothing in this world that means more to me than you. That has never changed."

Relief flooded her body. She believed him. She knew he was telling her the truth. She had replayed those very words from him so many times – they represented the backdrop to her understanding that she never should have left him for Buffalo –and that he had loved her solidly since their utterance. Feeling completely drowned in his love, tears re-filled her eyes. She had never wanted to be closer to him than at this moment. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in as tightly as possible and said, "Closer William, please … I want you closer." She lifted her leg and wrapped it around him as well, pulling him as close as possible with it as well. Through his trousers she felt he was hard, strong. She moaned.

His arms reached down, encompassing her. He lifted her off the ground, twirled them both around and let his knees bend to catch the couch, then tenderly dropped her down onto the couch and enveloped her with his body, kissing her passionately. He rolled over on to his side enough to undo his pants and lower them. He took a firm hold of her thigh, lifted it and pushed it to the side, opening her velvety, moist folds to him. She moaned again. "When you make that sound I lose my mind," he said. He lowered himself and rolled on top of her, pressing up into her smoothly, firmly, sliding inside of her. Her moan was long and deep. The pleasure surging through her was intolerable, prompting her to grab and pull and twist the hair on the back of his head and dig her fingernails into his back – and then to pull him down into her - hard. She began to thrust her hips against him in a sensuous rhythm. He joined her cadence, multiplied the force.

Out of breath, dry and baritone, he asked, "Is this close enough?" The only response she was capable of was to moan again. He pushed in deeper, and with his next thrust deeper still. It was exquisite, pushing her over the brink. She felt her edges coming undone first, the warmth flooding in from all sides – but slowly, slowly. She waited, holding her breath, letting it come, knowing it was coming. She heard William's moan as he released his inferno inside of her … glowing, hot expansion moving out from her center to ripple and bounce against the flow moving in from the edges, making a swirly, floating eruption throughout her very being.

Done – still – spent …

Her breath pounding against his ear, he heard her swallow, and huskily say, "Oh my god, that was good." She was crying again, but William recognized these tears – they accompanied really superior lovemaking. He kissed them away as they clung together, waiting for the rhythm inside of them to align with that of the world outside once more.

Julia sat up and fussed with her hair. It was a mess, but its rebellious look only served to show the degree of delight she had experienced. His over-sized shirt was twisted around her body, allowing one of her breasts to pop out over the one button that was still intact. She twisted the shirt back to center and said, "I'm famished." Taking him by the hand, standing and pulling him to his feet, she gave him a quick kiss. She pulled up his underwear and trousers and began to re-fasten them. He removed her hand and finished himself.

Sitting at the table eating, William said, "It is cold."

Julia agreed, "Umm, but still quite good." Her mind drifted to his reticence about any public expressions of their love – to lovemaking with a hint of risk of being seen by others. She decided to push the issue – to tease him. "William … I had reason to believe you would want to make love in such a … in a public place…"

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow at her in doubt. "And why was that?" he asked, taking the bait.

She dropped her eye, played with the food on her plate, "Well … I think the park … is a much more public place than the backroom in your office, and you …"

Looking surprised, William shook his head, "Oh no! No, no, no… That only happened, or I should say _almost_ happened, because I drank too much absinthe. That is not a fair comparison."

"I think it is perfectly fair. As a matter of fact, I think it indicates that deep down, probably in your sub-conscious, you would really, really like to do it in a public place – That you would find it thrilling, and invigorating, with just enough danger to excite you beyond your wildest dreams…" she poked at him.

Much to her surprise, and probably to his too, William blushed. He quickly took a bite of food, trying to hide it, but it was too late. Julia had noticed and grabbed the opportunity.

"William," she said, "You are blushing. I got it right, didn't I?"

Shaking his head no and trying to swallow and clear his throat he replied, "I really don't think so, Julia. I'm pretty sure it is …"

She leaned over her plate, getting as close to him as possible and told him, in a low voice, like it was a secret between them, "Oh William … we will have to do this … we will have to make this fantasy come true!" He looked so worried. She was having a wonderful time. However, she decided to let him off the hook, for now, being sure to record in her memory to devise a plan to make such a thought a reality. She decided to change the subject, "Umm, I believe I wrote about the time we almost made love in the park in my journal. Did you?"

He was clearly relieved to be off of the subject of fantasies and whether or not he desired making love in public. He released a sigh, which seemed to restore his face to its normal color, and said, "Yes, I believe so. But I don't remember it being very extensive. I was so elated, and as I remember, a little hung over, that I didn't feel like sitting and writing much at the time. When we finish, let's take a look." Julia smiled and bounced a little with anticipation.

After the dinner had been cleared away they changed into their pajamas and nightgown and sat together on the couch. Julia wanted to read first.

 **Last night – a memory that I will never forget. William Murdoch and I finally gave in to our mutual feelings for each other – there can be no doubt now that they are mutual! I truly believe he loves me, and I'm pretty sure he knows I love him too. Just a simple picnic, peanut butter and jelly no less, and what a surprise … William Murdoch, the stiffest, straightest person I know, brought a bottle of absinthe. I remember being so excited, so in love, that I couldn't breathe. And I believe I have now heard my favorite sound in the world – his laugh. When he laughs – a hearty, beyond his control laugh, the inside of me lights up like I've never felt before. Oh my god, I'm so in LOVE with him! But what I'm most astounded by is our chemistry. I had no idea I could feel that aroused by a man. I have to remind myself that he is just a man, but, oh my god, my body reacts to him, to his presence near me – ON me … I so wanted him IN me, to feel him moving through me. Such a burning desire… And I did have to stop him… can't risk pregnancy again, but I know he wanted me, too – I know he did. I bet he'll have protection from now on. It will happen, and there is every promise that our lovemaking will be amazingly powerful.**

 **A part of me has to reflect on the other people in my life and how they'll react. Father will not be happy. I think Ruby will be delighted. I'll have to write her.**

Julia put her journal down and crawled onto his lap, straddling him. "My head was swimming William," she said. "I knew – I knew right then, that there would never be another love like ours," she added before taking his mouth in a kiss. Arousal grew hot and strong within them. Already she could feel him lifting into her from under his pajamas. "You see, this is the chemistry, William. Isn't it amazing," she asked.

"Mmm," he answered. "So for you, this was when you discovered, or affirmed, that I loved you too, right? I mean, you've told me that you fell in love for me before this – when you were performing the autopsy on Orville, when I was with you through that struggle?" he asked.

She nodded. Her eyes drifted to his journal on the table. She brought them back to his warm, brown eyes and asked, "It was the same for you, no? You already loved me but weren't sure I felt the same for you?"

He pinched one of her curls, twisted it and played with it as he said, "Yes." He placed his hands on her hips and guided her off of him to sit next to him. He reached over and across her to get his journal. He found the page and said, "Yes, it is quite a short entry."

 **I was right. She's the one for me. There is no doubt. I only wish I had had the courage to truly find out on my own – without the absinthe. But either way, I am certain. I feel that I have loved her since before I met her – an eternal love. There will never be another day of my life during which I will not know that I love her with all of my heart and all of my soul. And, Joy – for I believe she feels the same for me.**

 **We will have to marry … I face this with some trepidation – our classes are not the same. She will sacrifice to be my wife. It will cost her – status, hopefully not the love and respect of those she holds most dear, though…**

 **I need to guard against weakening before we are wed. Definitely no more alcohol!**

Julia gave William a light bump with her elbow, "Marriage, William … you jumped right to marriage… Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. We did that part your way, hmm? – waited until we were married to finally make love."

"I really had no idea it would be such a long wait though," he said, pulling her back into his lap, with his big, brown eyes twinkling.

She found this particular look of his – the one where he holds back a smile and his eyes dance with sparkles – irresistible. She asked, "William, do you remember the very first kiss that night?" He nodded. She described it, "So small, just a little more than a peck really."

"Mmm," he agreed.

She decided to re-enact it, "You said you were disappointed that you hadn't seen any green fairies… And I said we couldn't have you disappointed." Then she slid her fingers into his hair at the back of his neck, and slowly, seductively, scratched her nails lightly into his scalp. She said, in a voice that charged and melted his insides at the same time, "It was you who leaned in though William… but so slowly, and not all the way. You waited for me to turn my head, to invite you. My head was spinning before our lips touched – I felt my breath surge and weaken. I could smell you. And then William, I saw you close your eyes… I came undone inside. And, my god your lips were soft, and I had to get my tongue to at least just touch them – taste, I so wanted to taste you. But the kiss broke off before I could – honestly, this guaranteed that the next one would be much deeper. Oh, and it was." She waited, adding a little pressure to the back of his neck, thinking, " _Do it again, William_."

He did. He leaned in, waited for her to tilt her head, felt her quick, short breath flow over his face before he heard her inhale, then closing his eyes and bringing his lips to hers, soft, sincere, brief – like a knock before opening the door.

"There were sparks, William – And then the flame," she said… Her mind slipped back to his words, written down so many years ago. She lifted his chin, left her fingers there to stroke and tease. She said, "You are so very romantic at times, William."

He lifted his eyebrow at her, "Oh?"

"Yes, you wrote of loving me before you ever met me – like you've loved me for thousands of years," she explained.

"Yes," he replied, sitting up taller, sliding his hands along her waist and up her back. "But, I've told you plenty of times that I feel I have loved you forever, no?" he said.

Her hand drifted up his jaw to his ear, she softly tugged and pulled at it and whispered, "Say it again."

"Again?" he asked, "You want more?"

She tilted her head, held his eye, pulled at his heart – and other parts of his anatomy as well, and said, "But one never tires of something so beautiful."

He pushed her back a little – dropped his chocolate brown eyes slowly down her body and then brought them back up to her magnetic blue ones and said, "My point exactly." He leaned in to take her lips in a slow, but deep kiss. When he broke off this kiss both of their hearts were racing – sending their lungs into overdrive to get oxygen, straining their brains to hold steady while feeling the world around them and within them start to spin. His voice had dropped an octave, sounding low and dry, he said, "Julia, you are like the lightning to my thunder… I don't only feel I have loved you forever, I feel we are innately tied together – meant to be together, like the Sun tugs at the Earth as they both hurl through space, and the Earth calls the dawn. There is constant motion, yet never is one left without the other – born together of the same explosion, gravity tying them together while inertia moves them into their dance."

She unbuttoned his pajama top, and leaned down to kiss and torment his newly uncovered neck, as she slid and scratched her way under the fabric to send scrumptious tingles across his chest. Her voice also registering at a lower note when she said, "Leave it to a romantic scientist to pull me in with such force, husband – Making our love, both celestial and atomic, eternal and in the moment, honestly – magical, hmm?"

"Mmm," he responded, but it was unclear if it was in response to her words, her seduction, or perhaps both. He took a deep breath and said, "I have an idea. Is there enough wine left for two glasses?"

She sat up – he had piqued her interest, and answered, "Yes, I've only had one glass so far."

"Good," he said. Pour us each a glass of wine and meet me in the bedroom," he requested while sliding her off of his lap, standing and offering her a hand.

When Julia got to the door way into their bedroom, carrying the two glasses of wine, she decided to stop and watch William – relying on her stillness to provide her cover. He was setting up a Bedroom Picnic – All of the blankets were pulled off of the bed and spread out on the floor. The lights were out, leaving the room to be illuminated by the three or four candles flickering and dancing and sending their luminous glow smokily throughout the room. He was currently squatting down near one of the corners of the blanket to place a book on the floor. Seeming to catch her presence out of the corner of his eye, like using your peripheral vision to find the faintest stars in the sky, he lifted his head to catch her eye. She heard his voice in her head, " _like lightning to my thunder_ ," and felt her mouth softly open, her eyes glaze. She felt stunned – captured by him. There was dizziness, and a low hum sang in her ears. " _Breathe_ ," she told herself, receiving the reminder from him as she saw him take a deep breath. He stood, holding her eyes, and she walked over to join him on the blanket. He took his glass, bowed to her slightly, and offered her a toast, lightly clinking his glass against hers he said, "To our eternal romantic love."

They both sipped the wine – never losing contact with the eyes of the other. He took her glass and turned to place both of them down on the book. Turning back to her, he offered her a hand, like he was inviting her to dance , but in this case it was more like to swim – to swim with him down on the blankets. They sat facing each other. William reached over to pick up the glasses of wine and passed Julia hers. As they each drank, Julia teased William about being out in public – as if they were pretending to really be picnicking in the park – in his pajamas, and even more scandalous, his top was open. He pointed out that she was also in her nightgown, and even though no one could tell by just looking – she did not have bloomers on! They shared a laugh, enjoying the thought.

Julia asked, "So William, tell me about the book," and then took the last sip of her wine.

William leaned back, took a big breath, and shook his head. He was clearly stalling for time, raising his wine glass to his lips.

Of course, this intensified Julia's curiosity. "Oh William, what is it?" she pushed. She leaned towards the book, reaching for it.

He caught her hand. His look stern, he said, "It is mine, wife, and I will decide when you will see it."

She raised an eyebrow at him and then dropped her eye to the hand that was restraining hers. "Unhand me, husband," she demanded. William released her and watched intently as she leaned more towards the book and then placed her empty wine glass down on the wooden floor next to it. Her eyes dropped to the book, unable to learn much because it was upside down, before she brought herself back to sitting directly in front of him. She shifted her legs more to her side and slid closer to him. "Drink up," she insisted. William downed the rest of his wine and he placed the empty glass on the floor next to hers.

She slid his pajama top down his shoulders and arms and tossed it away. Her eyes soaked in the view. "You know, when we moved into this suite I noticed you had very few possessions – but one of them was your weights," she said as she brought her hands to his shoulders and rubbed and glided her fingers down his arms to his biceps. She shifted even closer to him and put her mouth close to his ear, "I am really, really glad you brought your weights William," she said as her admiring attentions dwelled on his more prominent muscles. Her appreciation caused him to unconsciously sit up taller and puff out his chest. She placed her hands on his waist and then glided them up over his abs to stop on his chest. He leaned in and kissed her. Before he could put his hands on her, however, she ducked to the side and grabbed the book. She tucked it close to her chest and rolled over – quickly escaping his arms, coming to rest on the opposite side of the blankets with the book buried under her chest. He dove on top of her, hands digging in an attempt to get a hold of the book and pull it out from under her. She screamed with delight. Unable to remove the book from her clutches, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled over onto his back, bringing her along for the ride so that she was lying on her back on top of him. From this position he tried some more to free the book to no avail. Then he finished rolling all the way over to submerge her underneath him again.

"William, let me see it!" she called out with glee.

He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and kissed her. Julia could feel the tightness across his lips as his mouth slid into a grin before he said, "Alright wife, you have a few moments to peruse before I return – I have a plan and I need to get something to set it into motion."

William went into the bathroom to gather a small bowl of hot water and a wash cloth. Truth be told, he was glad to have Julia discover what the book was about without him being there. He was excited about sharing it with her, but he knew he would not be able to control the embarrassment that accompanied that excitement.

Lying on her stomach on the covers, Julia lifted herself up on her elbows. She pulled the precious book out from under her body. She flipped it over to finally read the title … It did not seem to be in English, prompting her to feel duped by William who clearly knew she wouldn't be able to understand the book without him, explaining why he let her win and keep possession of it. The title had oriental-looking symbols followed by the word, " _Ishinpō."_ She read the smaller print below it, relieved to see that it was in English, "A complete transcription of the Taoist text known as _The Classic of Sunu."_ She turned the page and read the first line of the introduction, "This text is a dialogue between the Dark Maiden and the Yellow Emperor, with the former providing advice on sexual practices to the latter." " _Now this is getting good_ ," she thought. She opened the book up to a random page. Her eyes were drawn to an illustration, and she was sure that her eyes dilated upon her brain's recognition of what it showed. The caricature consisted of an Asian man and an Asian woman having sex. The woman was seated on a table with her legs wrapped around the waist of the man who stood in front of her. The man's pants were pooled at his feet and his pelvis was pressed tightly up between the woman's legs. " _Oh my god, William …_ " she thought.

William placed the bowl of hot water down on the floor at a corner of the picnic blankets. He stood, paused for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. He cleared his throat.

Julia rolled over to sit up facing him, pulling the open book into her lap. She really didn't know what to say. She was shocked that a man as buttoned-down as William would own such a book – but she was also thrilled – amazingly thrilled. She needed to clear her throat before she tried to speak, "A-hem … William," she swallowed. "I …Come here," she said, her voice mixed with warmth and desire.

He sat in front of her, his eyes wide and focused on her. She felt pulled by them, like he was somehow able to open her up with just a look. She took a deep breath and said, "I have a lot of … questions." He nodded. "Umm, how long have you owned this book?" she asked.

He wanted to touch her, but held back. He replied, "For many years. I got it from the Chinese man … He was grateful for my respectful treatment of his family during a case … Remember, the grandfather of the young woman who had been raped by the constable from stationhouse #5."

She thought back to that time. It really was a long time ago – right after he returned from Bristol. "Is this how you … how you learned … how to do, umm, so many of the things you know how to do?" she asked.

William chuckled. "Some," he said.

"William, how else?" she heard herself ask before she had thought about saying it out loud.

He dropped his eyes and squirmed a little, making his discomfort visible. After a deep breath he struggled to explain, "Well, as I have already told you, umm, some of the … err, skills I have I learned from … Well remember the night we became engaged – up at your father's lake-house …"

Julia nodded and decided to help him out as best she could. She added, "Yes, we almost made love, but stopped so you could get a prophylactic, and then decided not to after we, umm, cooled off and had time to think about it."

"Yes," he continued, "But later we, umm, I … used … umm …" He sighed, "Remember Plan C?" he finally asked.

She took his cheek in her hand, the love she was feeling for him expanding warmly in her heart, and said, "Of course, you … umm, pleasured me … much to my amazement, through my clothes or the sheet so there was always something between us … with your hands and your mouth. It was exquisite. And then I did the same for you. Of course, I will never forget." Julia dropped her eyes to the book in her lap and then lifted them back up to hold his. "Did you learn that from this book?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head, "As I told you at the time I learned that from ..."

"Ettie … That's right. You said Ettie, Miss Weston – the Madame, taught you how to do that," Julia said, noticing that he was relieved that he would not have to tell her all over again. "As I remember, she wanted to protect you from any diseases she might have had and keep herself from getting pregnant," she concluded.

William nodded. "But," he said while his eyes dropped down to the book, "the book does offer much relevant information for my being able to … perform the skills … better." With this last part, William blushed. He lifted his eyes, not attempting to hide his red face from her, prompting her to love him even more, and excitedly added, "But Julia, this book really offers a view of lovemaking that is so interesting. The Taoists held that it was the man's responsibility to control his urges sufficiently to … last long enough, and perform certain acts, that would bring the woman pleasure… And that in so doing, he would bring them both maximum pleasure, even improving their health, extending their lifetimes, and bringing them to a higher level of spirituality!"

She smiled, intensifying the flames he felt in his gut, and said, "It does seem that you have been able to … meet those responsibilities quite well, William." She removed the book from her lap, placing it to the side, and moved herself as close to him as possible while they were in a sitting position, and said, "Perhaps we could …" She kissed him, deeply – being sure that taste would be something they both experienced.

William broke from the kiss and told her he had a plan. He told her to lie back down and become, "more familiar with the book," while he helped her relax and heighten her senses at the same time. She did as he said, laying on her stomach with the book in front of her.

William brought the bowl of warm water over to the wooden floor near her feet. He informed her, while she studied another very provocative drawing of a man and woman engaged in extremely pleasurable sex, that, to the Chinese, the feet hold much meaning – particularly sexually. After wringing the hot water out of the wash cloth, he lifted her foot in the air by bending her knee and covered it with the hot, damp cloth, caressing it to wipe it clean. Then he firmly and slowly rubbed and kneaded, and then kissed and sucked on, every inch of her foot. She moaned repeatedly, astonished by the bliss and arousal brought on by what he was doing. With her first moan, William felt a warm burst in his groin. Each time she moaned, twitched, squirmed with pleasure, his erection grew, but he also noticed joy in his heart. He loved her so, and he honestly felt nothing could make him happier than bringing her to such ecstasy. Having completed her first foot, he moved on to gratify her other foot in the same way.

William slid the bowl of water a safe distance from the blankets. Then he slowly, lovingly kissed and rubbed his way up each inch of her calf to her knee. Lifting her ankle to bend her knee, he created a hole behind her knee into which he dove and tickled her flesh with his lips, tongue and teeth, filling it with hedonistic glee. Each move he mirrored with her other leg – maintaining symmetry and balance was one of the goals. He noticed, happily, that Julia was loving it.

Next, his attentions turned to her thighs. She spread her legs, opening to him and enticing him, as he got closer to her most precious area. Her smell surged a bolt to his groin and he had to work to shift his focus back to pleasuring her rather than diving into his own desires. Upon his first caress of the crescent of the cheek of her buttocks, his kisses and rough molding of her flesh sent her into an abrupt arch accompanied by a deep moan, followed by rapid breaths. He had never seen her do this from behind and a moan escaped his throat as well. Stuck in a cycle of expansion, when she heard him it plunged her deeper into her desire and she arched and moaned again. It was more than he could take and his mind gave way – envisioning taking her from behind. His body reacted to the thought making him moan and thrust his hips into thin air. Once again, he pulled himself back from the abyss – redirected his focus to her breathing – her experience, to regain control over his own urges.

He lifted her to her knees in front of him and slid her nightgown over her head. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and slid his hands from her waist up to her breasts. While he aggressively sucked on her neck his fingers spread wide to cup as much of each breasts as possible and then he squeezed and kneaded, marveling at the way the supple and malleable flesh would flow and ripple between his fingers. She leaned back heavily into him, her insides twisted so tightly she believed they would explode. Tenderly he pinched her nipples, then he slid his hands lower to ravage and explore her belly and hips.

"Oh, William," she cried as she lifted her arm up to reach back and touch his face.

He cupped his hand over the mound of hair crowning her crotch and then slowly brought his fingers down to slide across the wet center of her folds. "Mmm," he said as he thought, " _Drenched, she's totally drenched,_ " before he leaned forward and brought her softly back down onto the blankets. He lay on top of her, letting all of his weight sink into her.

Julia weakly said, "I have never felt like this before – my muscles are like wet noodles, except a few muscles are so tight…"

"Did you see anything in the book you want to try?" William whispered in her ear from on top of her.

"I want to try everything William," she replied, causing his heart to fill once again with a warm loving feeling that erupted into laughter.

"Good," he answered. "But is there anything you'd like to try right now?" he asked.

She made a feeble attempt to roll over and then quickly gave up. She explained, "I want to do what we usually do – to have you in my arms…"

He rolled off of her and she rolled over to watch as he removed his pajama bottoms.

Julia's eyes grew wide, her insides ripping and tugging at her with desperate need for him, having been stirred into frenzy by the sight of his state of arousal. With her eyes fixed on his groin she said, "Umm William, I understand that, according to Taoist ways, it is your responsibility to control your urges – to prolong our lovemaking – How long have you been controlling _that urge_?" She lifted her eyes to his and waited for his reply.

"Since the first time you made one of those exquisite sounds you make," he said as he crawled over to her, pushed her down, and climbed on top of her. She surrounded him with her arms and legs – felt his urgency against her skin. She heard him inhale a deep breath so close to her ear before he said, in a husky low voice that hit just the right chord in her soul, "Tell me what you want."

She felt such swimming in her head she could not answer. She swallowed, but …

"Do you want me inside of you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "Deep, deep inside of me," her voice managed to scratch out.

William shifted his position, lining himself up – preparing to enter her. "How deep?" he asked.

She arched up into him in anticipation and said, "So deep I can feel you in my throat."

He pushed in, feeling her slippery, velvety insides enveloping him more and more as he steadily drove into her. She moaned and he started pumping – but he knew it was too soon. " _Steady, steady – deeper first,_ " he thought, trying to hold his focus.

Julia's breath burned into his ear – into his brain as she added, "And I want you to rock me and move me – hard. Push us to the other side of the room."

He chuckled. "The Taoists teachings are good, but they don't make you superhuman," he replied.

They made love – and it was good. The vigorous activity had made the blankets slip around quite a bit, causing them to end up looking like waves surrounding the wake they had made as they swam around together. Tangled together they whispered their "I love you's," and kissed and caressed each other while their heart-rates settled.

Julia said, "Mmm, I feel so magnificently satisfied William. Lovely, just lovely."

"I wanted to help you relax," he said. He rolled on to his side, rested his elbow on the blanket with his chin in his hand and tenderly fondled her face, neck, breasts and shoulders as he worked up the nerve to bring up her erratic behavior for the past few weeks. Warmly he said, "You have been tense... for awhile."

She reached up to stroke his cheek. "Yes," she agreed. She moved closer, she wanted to be more tucked under him. She sighed as she struggled with what to say. Finally words just blurted out, "I'm sorry William. I know I've been … difficult to … I've been inconsistent and hard to understand …"

"Julia," he said, "It's like we run through a cycle of emotions, from one to the other so quickly. And often I can't get a handle on why you suddenly feel … umm, insecure, or angry." He pulled back to make sure they could see each other eye to eye. He wanted to ensure that she saw his love for her – that he was not judging her. "This flurry of emotions causes us – you, and me too, such stress… and …"

"I know. I don't know what's going on either William. I want to have sex all the time – I mean much, much more often than I used to, and I do feel so insecure … about us. I know it's not rational, but I feel like you don't love me as much as you used to, and I worry that you'll leave me," she added.

His logical, detecting mind began to whirl, "How long has it been since you've noticed these changes?" he asked.

"I guess about two weeks or so," she answered.

He agreed, thinking it was about that long ago as well. "So what happened two or three weeks ago that could have triggered these emotions?" he continued his line of inquiry.

She sighed. "Well, at first I thought it was because you were more distracted by your work than usual…"

He considered it and said, "There have definitely been times that I have been more distracted by work than the past few weeks – but we did start building the house, and that has taken some of my attention."

"Yes," she said, "It has… umm, and of course, the reason we're building this house is to … to umm, make a good home for our … family. I mean us – and our children."

"Um-hmm, William said. "It was three weeks ago that we filled out the adoption papers."

"Yes, and William, some of the answers to the questions made me worry … They may not think we – well mostly me, would be good parents. Umm, I said I would keep working… And we've both been arrested for murder," she said.

"Julia," he said, enveloping her in his arms as much as possible, "I believe we will end up with children – and I want to take every avenue available to make it happen – but you really need to know that if we are not able to have children, I will not love you any less. I will not leave you. I have no choice in the matter really – my heart is bound to you wholly. I am extremely happy with you. You mean everything to me, hmm?"

She nodded and buried her face in his neck. Her mind replayed the romantic words William had written and spoken earlier. She thought about how they had drank absinthe that night in the park and how he had made their "bedroom picnic" tonight… And then she remembered his final **written** words, " _Guarding against weakening before we are wed – and no more alcohol_." She had always assumed he regretted their inability to actually make love that night and that he would have been sure to have prophylactics on hand from then on. But no – it seemed she was wrong. "William?" she asked, "So you decided to abstain from making love with me until we were married, umm, after the night in the park? You didn't buy any prophylactics?"

"Oh," he replied, "I bought some the next day," with his attempt at acting non-challant failing due to the inability to hold back a smile.

Julia laughed. "You're such an interesting man William – a Catholic Taoist. There can't be many of those in the world, hey?" she asked. She didn't wait for his answer. She gave him a big, joyous kiss. "Oh my god, William Henry Murdoch – I am so in love with you."

They got up off the floor, re-made the bed, blew out the candles, and drifted off quickly to sleep.

The next morning Julia felt nauseous. She ran from the breakfast table to throw-up.

William thought he saw a pattern, " _She's been sick the past few mornings… We have eaten the same food …Could it be? Perhaps that would explain the whirlwind of emotions and the hyper-arousal too. Oh my god I think she's…_ "

"Umm, William …" Julia said as she returned to the table. "I think I'm …" She held his eyes – his big, gorgeous brown eyes, and a part of her inside was jumping for joy …

He waited for her to say it. His heart was pounding! " _A baby! She's pregnant! We're going to have a baby!_ " he thought.

She saw it in his face – excitement, elation, happiness. She felt it too – for a moment… But then reality sunk in. The realization hit hard. " _I can't have a baby_ ," she thought. " _I will die in childbirth. Oh my god, we'll have to abort it!_ she remembered.

William noticed her face take on a devastated gloom. "What is it?" he asked.

Julia immediately burst into tears, "Oh William! I'm pregnant … And I see that makes you happy – but – Oh my god that makes it so much worse!"

His ears started ringing as fear cycled through him. "Why? What's wrong?" he pleaded, standing and pulling her into his arms.

She tried to catch her breath, to speak even though her face was wrinkled up with pain, "Remember? It's not just my uterus that was scarred by the abortion – it's my cervix too. It won't dilate enough – I would die if I tried to give birth to …" She started sobbing again, "… to our baby." She completely fell apart, whole-heartedly sobbing in his arms.

Tears filled William's eyes as well… He thought about the irony of life – that karmic wheel that spins around bringing our actions back to us, " _Now I will have to ask Isaac Tash, of all people, to perform an illegal abortion on_ _ **my**_ _wife – on Julia! I will have to ask him to abort_ _ **my**_ _child_ …" He thought he was going to be sick too. Julia's sobbing pulled at his heart, which he was sure was broken. "Hey, hey now," he said softly to her, as he rubbed her shoulder and stroked her hair, "we've got each other – we'll get through this." She just squeezed him harder. He rocked her in an attempt to soothe her – to soothe himself.

"I'm going to be sick again," she said, running off to the bathroom once more.

As William followed her to the bathroom he thought, " _She's crying so hard, so upset, she's making herself even more sick._ " He held out a towel to her to dry her face after she rinsed it off in the sink. She was not crying as hard now. "Julia, umm, I'm going to call the stationhouse and tell them we both must have eaten something – that we're sick and we won't be coming in today," he said.

She nodded, "Thank you," she replied. She took a deep breath and added, as she started to get choked up again, "I'll have to … Oh my god, William! I'll have to call Isaac." She held her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the tears that started again.

He took her face in both hands and tried to kiss the tears away. "Shh, shh," he whispered. He took a deep breath and asked, "Do you want me to call him?"

"No. No William. I'll call him," she replied.

He nodded and kissed her cheek. Then he turned and went to sit on the bed next to the phone and lifted the receiver. He called the stationhouse and told the constable who answered that they would both be out today and that he would call in to talk to the Inspector later.

Julia joined him on the bed. She nestled up to him. After he hung up the phone, he turned towards her and pulled her to sit in between his legs, pulling her to lean on him as he sat with his back pressed against the bed-board. Her legs hung over one of his legs and she rested her head on his shoulder. They were wrapped in each other's arms - quiet for a while.

William reached up and rubbed his forehead. He sighed. "I think my heart is breaking," he said.

She could hear the tears in his eyes. She whispered, "I think mine is already broken."

She hugged him tighter, turned to bury her face deeper into his neck. He felt her start to shake. His heart felt a burning, dull expanding ache.

"William I so want this baby…" she cried. "I want _**our**_ baby. I can't believe it – I've never wanted something so much in my life as I want to have this baby. How can we … I don't think I can …" She pulled her knees up to her chest, curled into a fetal position, but firmly held him close to her with her arms. "Oh my god it hurts," she sobbed, "I want this baby … I want this baby so much." He stroked her and rocked her until the tears ran dry.

After they had made an appointment with Dr. Tash, they sat and talked on the couch. William suggested they consider a Cesarean section. Julia informed him that the survival rate for the mother was only about 15%. They also discussed the significant impact that William's previous decision NOT to report Isaac's illegal practice of providing abortions would have on them now. It was amazingly uncanny that he would come to need to rely on these same illegal practices to save Julia's life. "What goes around comes around," he had said.

They went together to see Dr. Tash, returning to the suite in the early afternoon. William ordered lunch while Julia changed into something more comfortable. He removed his jacket, vest and tie and undid the top few buttons on his shirt to help relax. He sat down on the couch and began opening their mail.

Julia returned to sit next to him on the couch and ask, "Do you think you kept the issue of the journal Isaac told us about?"

"I'll go look," he answered.

She followed him and continued, "The _American Journal of Science_ … I guess it makes sense that you would not have read the article about the newest procedures for Cesarean sections – you are much more drawn to the articles about physics and new technologies. I hope you can …"

"Here it is!" he said. He handed it to her and they headed back to the couch. He was pleased to have been able to impress Isaac by reading such a journal – the two of them had really started off on the wrong foot, but Isaac had not held a grudge and had given him a second chance. " _He didn't gloat – he didn't even say, "Aren't you glad you didn't have me arrested,"_ William thought. In his heart he wanted so very much for Julia to keep the pregnancy – to be able to have their child, but his brain just wouldn't allow it. The risk was too high – and life without Julia was not an acceptable possible outcome.

He sat down next to Julia and continued opening the mail while Julia read the article on the procedure Isaac had told them about, a transverse cesarean section. There was a letter from the orphanage. He hesitated before he opened it. He was not sure how its contents would influence their decision. They already didn't agree – Julia wanting to keep the pregnancy and take the calculated 20%-30% risk of her ending up dying from the procedure, and he thought they should play it safe and for her to have an abortion. He sighed and opened the envelope. Within the first few words he could tell that they were being declined of the opportunity to adopt children from this orphanage. His heart sank. He read further. They were declined because Julia would be working, because his job was both dangerous and unsavory, and more. He rubbed his forehead, reacting to the stress of it all.

Julia lifted her head from the journal and asked, "What is it William?" He reached back up to rub his forehead again, and Julia knew it wasn't good news. She put the journal down, folded to hold her page, and slid closer to him.

"Umm, the orphanage …" he said. He saw Julia's face betray her fears. "They, uh, they declined us," he pushed himself to tell her.

"What reasons did they give?" she asked.

He put the letter down and pulled her closer to him. "Mostly our jobs," he said, sadness and defeat detectable in his tone.

"William, that's all the more reason for us to take the chance – please let's …" she said with her eyes glued to his.

William sighed as he tried to resolve the conflicting emotions of fear and hope that circulated through him. He shook his head, 'no' and said, "Julia, I just am so afraid … I want nothing more than I want you … and I can't seem to …"

She glanced over at the journal she had been reading, "Consider the science William. They have made magnificent breakthroughs. This procedure works very, very well. The biggest risk, really, involves not making it to the hospital in time. I mean, Isaac has agreed to stay in town and on alert once I reach my fourth month – and to teach the procedure to some other doctors at the hospital to cover for him in the case of some unforeseen problem…" She straddled him, sitting in his lap. She took his face in her hands. She slid her thumb over his lips, then leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. Her heart was pounding with hope. "William we have the chance to have all of our dreams come true! _Our_ baby William – _our_ child!" she said. She took his hand and placed it above her womb, "In there right now – mixed together, me and you – _**Your**_ baby is inside of me William."

He looked down – imagined the tiny fetus inside of her – heart beating. Oh how much he also wanted the child. He lifted his eyes to meet hers as he felt his fill with tears. He shook his head, 'yes' and, sounding choked up, he said, "Yes. Yes," as the tears began to stream down his cheeks. She wiped one away even as she felt a tear fall down her own cheek at the same time. They held each other until the food came.

Courageous, brave and optimistic, the couple excitedly made their plans over lunch – building their house, moving, getting a nanny, all enthusiastically discussed and more. In their hearts they believed that fate was on their side. They had struggled and suffered so much to be together, and what goes around comes around. Seize the moment – now's the time. They didn't look back, they charged forward together – knowing that together they were strong and that together there was nothing they couldn't do.


	8. Chapter 8

Journal Journeys_Love Songs

Moving in her sleep, Julia leaned back seeking the comfort, warmth and support of her husband's body to no avail. She awoke to find he wasn't there. She remembered making love with him before they fell off to sleep. She paused – knowing she would get up to see if he was in the other room, to see if he was alright – to let the lovely memory linger in her mind for a moment. Ever since she had become pregnant she had found her enjoyment during their lovemaking was much more intense. Her extra … enthusiasm was contagious, resulting in William also benefitting from the magnifying effect. " _It will be nice to be in our own home, to not have to worry about the noise complaints_ ," she thought. Interestingly though, she believed William seemed to puff-up whenever they received a noise complaint – like he was proud that he could bring his wife such pleasure that others could not help but overhear her cries of ecstasy. " _Perhaps this further supports my theory that William secretly wishes to publicly exhibit our romantic … sexual love for each other – I think he wants to show it off, at least on some level_ ," she continued in her head.

She was already out of the bed sliding her robe on when she felt her own hand stop to rest on her belly. " _Not a miracle really_ ," she thought, " _Just science and statistics_. Isaac had told her, all those years ago after her abortion had almost killed her, that her cervix was badly scarred – thus she would never survive childbirth – and that it might be difficult for her damaged cervix to make the plug that seals the fetus safely inside the womb during pregnancy, making pregnancy itself less likely. He had speculated that there was also likely scarring in the uterus, making it unlikely that a fertilized egg could find a place to attach to her womb. It was this last part she had figured meant she could not conceive – particularly after her marriage to Darcy resulted in no pregnancies even though they never used any precautions. Then came her marriage to William, and its significant increase in both sexual satisfaction and frequency. Statistically it made sense, that at some point a fertilized egg would land in a spot that supported its growth. The real miracle was the scientific breakthrough in the late 1800's that made using the procedure of a transverse Cesarean section (particularly with the Pfannenstiel incision invented in 1902) a statistical reality – now making it much more likely for the mother to survive the procedure than die. Hand still on her belly, she thought, " _You sure do feel like a miracle anyway_."

She moved through the dark room. When she walked out of their bedroom door, she could see William's silhouette – he was standing in front of the suite window, looking out at the street, bare-chested in only his pajama bottoms. Relief (that he was safe and home), love, and a little lust too, mixed and stirred throughout her body. She walked over to him. Upon seeing her, he opened his arms to her and she stepped into their circle to be encompassed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and asked, "So, what's bothering my beautiful husband?"

"I am happy you find me to be beautiful, but the term implies … it seems somewhat effeminate," he replied, avoiding the question.

She disagreed, "There are women who would kill for your beautiful eyes, William."

He raised an eyebrow to question her, "Kill ?!– as a detective I will have to consider such a thing as a potential motive?" His mouth suggested a smile.

Now she raised an eyebrow at him and then sighed and said, "Alright, what's bothering my _**handsome**_ husband, then?"

William sighed, still stalling for time, "I'm worried about you," his eyes dropped to her belly, "… and I'm also working on a stressful case, there are candidates scheduled to speak in public this weekend, and there have been credible threats made – I half expect Meyers to show up." They both chuckled.

Julia added, "The man really does seem to show up with anything that could possibly be a …"

They both finish her thought, "… threat to national security." He squeezed her tighter to him, enjoying the shared joke. They stood quietly for a while together, watching hansom cabs in the street.

Julia stepped back and reached up to take his chin in her hand, "Regrets?" she asked.

He held her eyes and answered, "No." He pulled her in front of him and reached around her from behind to tenderly caress her belly as they both gazed out the window. His voice flowed over her ear, "I'm very happy with our decision… even if I can't completely push away my concern."

Julia turned to face him, pressed herself close against him and suggested that they make love – that it would help get his mind off of it for awhile.

He replied, "Let's go back to bed then, my _**handsome**_ wife …" thinking, " _Let her get a taste of her own medicine_."

Julia's face showed her distaste as she replied, "I see what you mean – I don't like it either."

"To bed then, beautiful?" he corrected, with a glint in his eye.

Their bedroom was dark – only light from the window in the other room tiptoed in through the door - only edges caught the light. The couple stood face to face at the foot of the bed. William was focused on untying the sash of Julia's robe, while she watched him. The robe's silky fabric caressed her skin as it slid to the floor. Despite the darkness, Julia was able to see his controlled attention on her breasts. The sight caused her insides to stir and her breath to catch. They stood, waiting for a moment without either of them giving into their desire to touch. Finally, William guided Julia to sit on the bed – then he kneeled in front of her between her legs. His mouth was the first thing to touch her – nipple first – softly sucking. But then there was a burst of contact – both of his hands pressed her breasts together and his entire face dove in to be buried in her cleavage – William's lips, tongue and teeth ravaged her. Her moans of pleasure and want urged him on. He pushed her down onto her back. As he lay on top of her, he opened her thighs while he kissed down her body, stopping to nibble on her inner thigh, leaving her womanhood unguarded and vulnerable in front of him. He opened her folds and put his mouth on her. Being an expert at pressure, location, and timing, he quickly rendered Julia teetering on the edge of rapture. He could tell by her breathing, the placement of her head – neck extended and turned to the side, and the degree of torture she was putting the bed-sheets through with her fingers. She could tell because she felt the twisted tightness of her insides fraying at the edges. The moan she released was so soft, weak – it tugged at his groin while it called his soul. Like the sound of the flame igniting on a gas stove as it first touches the oxygen it needs for life, he heard it in his brain – he heard his irrepressible love for her erupt in his own breath. A moan escaped William's lips as well.

Before either of them consciously knew what had happened, Julia was flipped over on her belly with her knees on the floor at the base of the bed. Her curvy, supple, firm buttocks were directly in front of William who was on his knees behind her. The edges of her insides felt singed and smoky, still hot but no longer spreading inward – pleasure disrupted by the surprise. William lowered his pajama bottoms. His hands firmly rubbed against the back of her thighs, with hunger they traveled up and over the curves of her buttocks, and then pressed and slid along the small of her back to her waist. Here they took hold, a very strong hold – as they did so, Julia's womb caught on fire once again. She sucked in air and then held her breath. The roll of thunder had started – it was going to be big. He lifted himself up to find contact with her entrance and then he slowly, strongly pushed forward into her – the squeezing surrounding him as he came in magnifying his pleasure. Julia's moan matched her ecstasy at his touch – the force pulling them together sending their world into a spin, and a sink, and a float all at once. William felt the waves of her fiery walls vibrate all around him as he drove deeper and deeper inside of her. The ripples seemed to take hold of him and pull him deeper, closer to her core. Feeling his mind expand and sink, his focus centered on the one spot that melded with her and he thrust powerfully to complete the connection. His voice expressed his ecstasy as he exploded within her with a long, deep, slow moan.

Muscles loose, hearts fast, breathing slowing, they kneeled piled, William on top of Julia, together at the foot of the bed. He was still inside of her. He moved her curls out of the way, kissed her shoulder. As he withdrew to kneel on the floor, sitting on his heels, she turned to face him as she slid down onto his thighs at the foot of the bed.

Their eyes met, still a magnetically forceful bond despite the dim light in the room. He saw her forehead wrinkle and heard her take a sharp breath. " _She's going to cry_?" he thought, then reassuring himself that, " _She commonly did so after they made love, particularly if it had been intense, as this was… but it had been a little too quick – perhaps too rough_." Her crying grew into sobs and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She began to shake as she cried on his shoulder. He lifted her into his arms, and with, effort, stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He heard her sniffle, but her tears remained formidable. He decided to carry her over to the wall. "Did I hurt you?" William whispered quietly in her ear.

Julia felt she did not have enough air to answer, but pushed herself to inhale, not wanting him to worry or feel guilty, "No … It was … wonderful," she unsteadily responded. As he pressed her against the wall, taking some of load off of his body, she found she felt comforted to be locked in, cocooned, supported and safe. She wept harder.

William thought, "S _he is sobbing very hard – she's going to make herself sick_." He told her, "You need to breathe. Take a breath." She did so even though she anticipated an increase in the pain with the action. Her inhalation quivered dryly. Her breathing deepened afterwards and he told her to do it again.

By the third deep breath Julia put her feet on the floor and felt ready to tell him why she had cried so hard. "Fear William – fear of losing you, of my own death, especially in light of this risky pregnancy, and even fear of losing the baby too," she explained, subconsciously placing her hand over her womb, providing care, providing protection. He nodded. She continued, "Sometimes, when I'm really happy, I think, " _it can't last_ " … I advise myself to remember … to not forget that pain will come." She took another deep breath. Her face wrinkled into an apology-like expression. She took his face in her hands and said, "I'm so sorry for the roller-coaster of emotions. It seems that my pregnancy is still intensifying my feelings, and I know it affects you, that it's difficult to deal with …"

He slid his arms around her waist and said, "Julia, I love you more than anything in this world, and whether we're on an up or a down on this "roller-coaster" … whether the ups and downs are soft or huge, I'm glad to be along with you for the ride." He brought his fingers up to her face, stroked her lips with his thumb and then kissed her.

Julia pulled back in order to see his face. A sly smile formed on her face. William knew he was about to get teased, but he couldn't predict what was coming. "See I told you it would get your mind off of your worries," she said, digging at herself as she did so, highlighting this fact by wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand as she said it.

William gave her a slight bow and replied, "Well, it did – for a while." Keeping her in his arms, he pulled away from the wall and, while she rested her head softly on his shoulder with her cheek pressed to his ear, he tenderly started to sway their bodies to an imaginary tune. They rocked and stepped together – danced, both being soothed by the motion and the sound of William's voice as he hummed a tune.

Julia's tears subsided and her breathing steadied. She asked what tune he was humming. He told her he used to play the guitar – when he worked at the horse ranch and later in the logging camps. Sometimes he even made up his own songs – this was one of them. "Does it have words?" Julia asked.

"Mmm-hmm," he answered, "But I don't remember them all….At one point I even wrote a few new verses, even though I don't have a guitar anymore. They are in my journal."

"You do know you'll have to share this?" she pushed.

"Mmm-hmm," he replied and then returned to their dance, while he continued humming the comforting song.

Tiring, he brought them both to the bed and they crawled under the covers, snuggling together – hoping for sleep. Julia was unable to completely stop crying. While her head rested on his chest, he pulled back her hair and brushed away a tear from her cheek. She asked, "Can you make it better?"

A sigh announced his doubt. "No… It's math, you can't change the math. It's like a ratio between love and pain – the amount of love one feels (the numerator on top) gets divided by the amount of pain one feels with the inevitable loss of the love (the denominator on the bottom). In the end, I think it has to equal one. Therefore, the more you love, the more it hurts to lose your love," he said, seemingly caught by the pondering. Both of their minds followed their thoughts, reflecting on what he had said. Neither of them noticed that Julia's tears had stopped. William broke the silence, "As for death, I think in the end you divide by zero – it always ends up the same – zero, but the numerator, representing a person's life, can be any size." Julia lifted her head, wiped the dampness from his chest and her face with the blanket and shifted to place her head next to his on his pillow. He added, as he rolled over to face her, "I figure, let's live so that the numerator is big. We still end up with a zero in the end, but we get as much out of it as possible while it lasts."

"And what about the people you leave behind when you die? I mean, you become a zero, but they still haven't yet. So, how does the math work then?" she asked.

Pausing to think, William said, "Hmm … Well it makes the most sense that it should be like subtraction, loss I mean. The value of the person lost to the survivor must get subtracted from their lives, right?"

She nodded. "I guess that's one reason why it's a good idea to have more than one person you love in your life – and of course, hope you don't lose them all at the same time," she contributed to the reasoning.

"Mmm," he agreed. He thought of their future children, finding even more value in them.

With that, Julia rolled over and pressed the back of her body into her husband. He draped an arm over her and kissed the back of her head. "Good night, my beautiful wife," he said.

"Mmm," she replied, finally feeling sleepy.

The next morning Julia slept in and went to work late. She lay in bed, feeling much calmer and content. She reflected on the night before. The memory of William standing at the window, struggling with his fears and doubts, touched her. She remembered the feel of the embrace they shared. She had always marveled at how perfectly they fit together physically. When she wrapped her arms around his waist and he wrapped his around her shoulders, their bodies matched perfectly. Her chin naturally aligned with his shoulder, and when she rested it there, her cheek softly caressed against his ear. He only needed to turn his head to whisper directly into her ear. " _Perhaps that's why his voice seems to permeate my brain so completely when he speaks to me this way,_ " she thought. She wondered if it was his voice that most evoked feelings of love in her. It seemed that the tone of it, mixed with its dryness, and it seeming to evoke extra effort on his part to push it out at times, carried the perfect shape to fit with her psyche – as if his voice, and only his voice, was the key that matched the lock in her soul. When the key was turned she opened up. " _Fascinating really_ ," she thought to herself.

" _Well enough of that, little one_ ," she mentally told the little baby growing in her belly, " _Let's get off to work_." She found herself humming part of the tune William had hummed last night as he consoled her. She shook her head at herself and thought, " _It's probably this pregnancy thing that leads to female hysteria … It really is quite unreasonable how over-powering my emotions have become... He's such a good sport about rolling with it._ " She smiled and thought, " _I'm so fortunate …"_ Her eyes dropped down to her belly, " _You too, he's going to be a great daddy._ " A dark thought tried to seep into the back of her brain. She pushed it away before she could get a good look at it – there was an emotion though, like an aftertaste, it felt a bit like guilt.

Right before she walked out the door she thought to bring out their journals with the hope that William would read her, maybe even sing her, the song tonight. As she placed them on the table by the couch she reminded herself about what he had said about his current case, and Meyers' likely involvement. " _Probably not tonight,_ " she thought. (She didn't know it yet, but there were a dozen roses waiting for her at the morgue. Her day would be good).

It was finally Saturday. William had to work most of the day – candidates were speaking and he was in charge of security. Julia had invited a friend of hers to dinner. She knew that William and Paula, Paula Gail, knew each other from a case a long time ago, but she wasn't sure William would recognize her. He never questioned her individually, and she had very little to do with the case. She was the leader of the women's basketball team Julia had gone undercover to spy on to garner information about a woman who had been killed at the Masonic lodge – while impersonating a man. Paula was very assertive and ambitious – having worked her way up from a secretary to a manager at a local medical supplies business. Julia had recently run into her at a suffragette meeting. They recognized each other and Paula had approached, telling her she forgave her for spying on them. Paula had followed both William and Julia through the newspapers ever since, and so knew that they were married now.

She had enjoyed her day alone, reading medical journals and playing the Victrola. She had ordered herself a bottle of wine and was having a glass now. William would be home soon, he had called. He was picking up some cheese and crackers and another bottle of wine.

She heard him turn the key in the door and met him in the foyer. His hands were quite full. He had the groceries and the wine and a bouquet of flowers for her. She had missed him and had the desire to take him off to bed right then and there. She took advantage of his full arms to take him into a deep, passionate kiss, knowing he was somewhat helpless to take control of the situation. When she released his mouth he said, sounding breathless, "I missed you too."

She removed some of the items from his grasp and asked how it had gone. He didn't tell her that he had been injured when apprehending the suspect – he didn't want to upset her before their dinner guest arrived. His ribs were badly bruised. He would tell her later. He just let her know that they had successfully thwarted what they had thought was a plot to assassinate a candidate, but turned out to merely be a plan to pour a can of red paint on him – to signify the "blood on his hands." Meyers claimed there were not any deaths the candidate was responsible for – that it was simply a plot to disclaim him. He wrinkled his face to let her know he was unsure of this claim.

Julia had removed his tie and undone some buttons on his shirt. She was trying to resist the urge she felt to kiss and touch him more. He needed to get ready for their dinner. "You have time to take a shower before Paula gets here," she said, consciously deciding not to look him in the eye to help avoid temptation.

"I want to lift some weights before that," he said as he slid off his jacket and began to unbutton his vest. She nodded, he had time.

While he was lifting weights, Julia changed the record on the Victrola, prepared the cheese and crackers, put the flowers in a vase and then came to observe his work out. He was wearing only his underwear. He looked great, prompting her to remember her calling him, "her Greek God," so many years ago when he had chivalrously stayed overnight when she had been attacked by Orville and she ended up killing him. It was the next day she had allowed herself to fall completely in love with William – had never stopped loving him since then really. He watched her watching him – trying not to look like he was straining. When he put the weight down and started putting the weights away, being careful not to let her see the side of him with the bruising, she gave him some advice on his attire for the evening, certain he would want to wear a suit and tie. "William, casual tonight, hmm?"

He nodded, but wanting to make her happy he decided to clarify, "Only a shirt, no vest or tie?"

She walked up to him and thought to herself in response to the newly ignited desire to caress him, " _He's too sweaty_ , _later,_ " before she said, "And not buttoned all the way to the top, detective." He nodded in agreement.

William was still dressing when Miss Gail arrived – she was early. Julia let her in and got her settled on the couch with a glass of wine. He could hear them talking as he dressed. They were highly energized as they plotted about ways to draw attention to their latest cause – contraception. When William emerged from the bedroom, Julia laughed to herself as she noticed he had unbuttoned only the very top button of his shirt. " _Couldn't even unbutton the top two, hmm_?" she thought, " _He is so 'buttoned-up,' my husband_ … _Gorgeous though_." She checked to see if Paula was having the typical reaction of attraction to her husband. She didn't seem to be. However, it did seem William remembered her from the case. He asked her name and apologized again for barging in on the ladies in their dressing room. Paula put him at ease.

Julia sat next to Paula on the couch and William across from her in a chair. "I really find your wife to be an amazing woman, detective," Paula said passing him the tray with the cheese and crackers.

He took a cracker that already had cheese on it, thinking about how hungry he really was – no lunch. "That she is," he replied, noticing she was no longer looking at him, but smiling at Julia, "And please call me William," he added.

Paula continued her thought, "I have never known anyone as inspiring and dynamic, and … truly lovely to the core. And so accomplished and smart," she finished, finally turning to look at William once more.

William wasn't sure what was wrong but he felt bothered. He was about to say that all of these attributes would help with their work highlighting the needs for women's rights when Julia said, "Well actually, Paula, I think much the same about you – You have had to advance yourself up to manager and did not have many of the advantages that I have had." Paula thanked Julia for the compliment and asked her if she wanted another glass of wine.

William was sure she intentionally let her fingers slide over Julia's as she took the glass from her. While she was up, William got out of his chair and sat down next to Julia. He said, "I guess it is going to take talented, motivated and brave women like yourselves to change the world."

Julia reached over and unbuttoned his second button. They shared a look as he raised an eyebrow at her brazenness. Paula handed Julia her wine glass and hesitated as she tried to decide whether to sit on the couch next to William or in a chair. She opted for the chair William had not been sitting in directly across from Julia. Julia said, "You know William, we need men like yourself too."

He nodded in agreement. "I wonder if I'm as courageous as you ladies, though, I am not sure how the constabulary would react if my support were … very public," he said.

"Of course, I have the same employer, basically … But the cause is worth the risk, hmm?" she asked.

William rubbed his forehead, hoping Julia would not push it. He said, "Maybe one family member risking arrest is enough." He felt spared as the food arrived.

They sat at the table enjoying their meal. Julia sat between Paula and William. The conversation was lively and covered many topics. At one point fashion came up. Paula complimented Julia's taste in clothing. She stroked the fabric of Julia's sleeve and said, "The textures and colors are absolutely fabulous," lifting her eyes to hold Julia's.

Julia looked away and bounced a little when she replied, "Thank you. I do so love a nice dress." William had stopped mid-chew to take in the scene, and was staring at them. When Julia turned to look at him she felt a twinge of concern in her stomach. She carefully pulled her arm away from Paula's touch to lift her glass. She wanted to change the subject, "I'm afraid if I eat anymore of this desert I won't be able to fit in my dresses." She pushed her plate away. William followed suit. They waited while Paula finished hers and they all finished their coffee.

Soon after dinner they said goodnight, Julia and Paula sharing a hug just as she left and making plans for the next time they would see each other at a meeting.

William returned to the couch. Julia sat down next to him and asked, "You seemed out of sorts …?"

Once again rubbing his forehead, William sighed, "Julia, Paula … well, she … I mean her behavior suggested that she was quite taken with you. And after Dr. Grace and Miss Moss, I uh, … It feels like I used to have to worry about ½ the population being attracted to you, and now I realize that I have to worry about the other ½ as well."

Julia shook her head in disbelief, "Really William …"

"Yes, really. She couldn't take her eyes off of you. And she even …"

Julia interrupted him, "Yes … I noticed you react strongly to her touching my arm … Really William, it's different with women. Women touch and hug, and walk arm in arm. You know this."

He nodded, "Umm … yes I guess that's true…"

"Julia added, "Honestly William, if you need to worry about women finding me attractive, and then what, me having an affair… I mean William, were you jealous?"

He opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it and closed it again.

J: "I don't believe it – You were!"

He wrinkled up his face, and thought, " _There's no point in denying it._ "

J: "Well then I guess I need to start looking out for all the men in the world tempting you then!?" She knew this would not sit well with her husband. It did not.

William's body immediately reacted to the thought of a man propositioning him with aversion. He felt a little sick to the stomach and his head hurt. He reached up to rub his forehead. Julia couldn't help but to laugh. He didn't appreciate the humor and gave her an annoyed look.

"Oh William, come on. Even if you're right, can't you at least trust me?" Julia said, standing up and placing her hands on her hips, challenging him.

William's heart was pounding. He thought for a moment before he said, "But Julia that's just the thing – I know you are … quite adventurous and are always interested in trying something new. I think you'd be more tempted than if it were a man… And, umm, well I think a woman could … I mean after Dr. Grace and Miss Moss, I … There are ways two women can … pleasure each other. I mean anything you and I do that, umm …"

"Doesn't involve a penis," she finished for him. "Yes, it's true," she said, firmly holding eye contact with him.

William approached her, stood very close. And said, "And I would want you to tell her 'No' if she …" he took her chin in his hand, rubbed her lips with his thumb, then tilted his face, moved closer to her mouth, closed his eyes and just before he kissed her said, "… if she did this." He kissed Julia – his lips pressed firmly against hers, but there was motion, bending and dragging her lips with his. He slid his tongue across her lips, he so loved the taste of her. He wanted more. He pressed against her lips harder and widened their connection, encouraging her to open her mouth to him. She did and then he pulled back.

Julia was aroused by his kiss. Her voice smoky and sleepy she said, "William, I … I don't think she could kiss me like that."

As he kissed her again, his hands took her hips. Her body twitched, arched, and her breath caught as her mind rushed ahead to imagine him thrusting inside of her. A moment later he broke off the kiss and asked her, "What caused that … reaction? Was it just the kiss?"

Julia chuckled, slightly embarrassed and dropped her eyes away from his. When she lifted them back up she said, "Partially … umm, it was a very nice kiss …" She looked away again and continued, "I, umm, I imagined …" She turned back and held his eyes.

He leaned in to place his lips close to her ear and pushed, "What did you imagine?" He then firmly pressed his lips, and then his teeth, on her neck. He sucked, letting his tongue join in to more exquisitely taste her flesh – this love bite would surely leave a mark. She arched and twitched once again, adding a soft moan this time. He said, "That sound is for my ears only – It's mine."

"Yes," she said, her voice sounding breathy and aroused.

He pulled back and asked again, "What did you imagine?"

She lifted herself up to flood his ear as she exhaled and then huskily said, "You thrusting inside of me."

Now it was William's body that reacted. Each of them felt his groin rise and press against her. A soft whimper escaped his throat. He cleared his throat and said, "It seems my … urge … is quite strong tonight." He roughly took her in his arms and lifted her off of the ground to plant her back against the closest wall. He pulled at her skirt, attempting to lift it. A moment later he chuckled, "Not veryIshinpō is it? I seem to be having trouble holding to my Taoist teachings at the moment."

"Perhaps we can slow it down a little? … Take off my dress," she instructed. She unbuttoned his shirt, "I want to touch those muscles you've been working so hard on." She slid her fingers and nails across his bare skin. "Umm," she said in response.

Desperate desire to touch, taste, squeeze and slide against each other overwhelmed them. They ripped at each other's clothes, forsaking concern for the garments. A few buttons popped and seams ripped under the demand. Quickly, they were naked. William forcefully turned her around to push her chest into the wall. His hands roughly travelled across her backside, investigating each curve. His head spun, the dizziness driving him to lose control. He wanted to take her now, from behind.

Julia turned around, lifted his chin to catch his darkened brown eyes. The sight of him sent a bolt through her, weakening her knees and causing her back to jerk into an arch once more. His wild desire for her stunned her. She was his. She felt defenseless, needing to grab him to remain standing, she gasped and said, "Please William. Right here, right now." He brusquely took hold of her hips and lifted her up, only her toes still touching the ground. He pressed his knees against hers and pushed her legs further apart. She reached down and helped guide him into her. Her neck flung back as he entered, "Oh my god … yes," she said. She moaned and then said again, "Yes."

As he drove deeper and deeper into her soft, warm, tightly hugging space, he pressed his chest against hers, pinning her firmly to the wall. In his head, he re-heard her voice saying, " _You thrusting inside of me_." Everything else in the world was gone. He wanted only to touch the deepest part of her, " _Right there_ ," he thought, as he felt his insides explode with liquid heat, " _Right there_." "Ohh," he moaned, "Ummm," rumbled in his throat as he rushed to pump faster.

Feeling the rush, Julia pressed her crotch strongly against him and moved her hips hypnotically and quickly. "Don't stop, William … Oh my god. Oh William," she cried as the tightness within her inner recesses finally burst open and the flood of hot, delicious pleasure spread throughout her body to cover her from her toes to her face.

Still inside of her, both covered in sweat and the sounds of hurried breathing, with their hearts pounding in their chests and ears, William swallowed. "Oh my god Julia," he said. He laughed and said, "If we weren't already married I'd have to marry you."

"Because you've had your way with me and I'm carrying your child?" she teased.

He replied, "Well those reasons too, but I meant to keep others away from you – to keep you for myself."

"Oh I see." She answered. Then she said, "You know, I've noticed a pattern I think … After you get jealous, our lovemaking tends to be, umm … well, rough and demanding… Don't get me wrong William – I'm not complaining. I quite like it… But it does make me think that you really were jealous of Paula tonight, hmm?"

He slid out of her and took one of many wayward curls in his fingers, "Yes, it's silly I guess, but yes, I was jealous," he admitted.

"My god I love you William Murdoch… "I wonder if we'll ever tire of this?" she asked.

"I hope not," he answered.

They both turned to look as a noise complaint was slid under the door. They looked back at each other and laughed. Julia told William that she ran into a couple from the room next door. She said good morning and they returned the gesture. She continued to tell him, "And they said to tell 'William' good morning as well – They knew your name William!" she said, blushing.

He blushed too and said, close to her ear, like it was a secret, "Well, you are a bit … expressive."

"Doesn't it bother you, William, that someone else heard my passionate cries, our … vigorous lovemaking?" she asked.

He thought about it for a moment and replied, "No, surprisingly, it doesn't."

Julia raised an eyebrow at him and said, "But I thought such sounds were to be for your ears only?"

He sighed and reached up to rub his forehead. He felt pressed to explain his earlier comments and the jealousy that prompted them. "I guess it's not so much the … desirous sounds you make being heard by another that so emblazons my jealousy, but rather the thought that someone besides me would have aroused you sufficiently for you to make such sounds in the first place," he offered.

"I see," she said, kissing him and then adding, "I wouldn't like it if someone else besides me aroused you so either."

A moment passed before Julia continued teasing him, "Actually, it seems you are quite … _**proud**_ of having others know about, umm … to have people be aware of how well you, umm please me," she said as she poked him in his ribs and wrapped her arm in his for a squeeze of glee.

He made an effort not to wince in pain as she had poked the spot that was bruised. He chuckled and replied, "I am unable to deny it," although his crimson color betrayed his mixture of embarrassment with the pride.

Julia took this as reinforcement for her theory that her husband sub-consciously desired to make love to her in a more public venue. " _I guess it might be a while till I can bring that about, but I will someday – maybe after the baby is born_ ," she planned in her head. Her heart grew warm with love for him.

"You know William, there are only a few more months of this for me. Then, according to Isaac, I'm advised to abstain – to better avoid having a miscarriage… But we can still, umm, we can bring you to …" she said.

He pushed back to ensure she could see his eyes clearly. "Oh no. I'll be abstaining too," he said. A smile curved up at the edges of his mouth, "If, when you just _**imagine**_ us making love … it causes your body to … contract so strongly with desire, well I figure you'd react to me, umm, to my pleasure similarly, umm… Right?"

"Perhaps," Julia said, shaking her head, 'yes.'

He continued his reasoning, "Well, I for one don't want to take any chances. And if you did miscarry … when you are more than four months along… Well, you would still need to undergo the procedure – the transverse Cesarean section?"

She nodded, "Yes, the fetus would already be too big to fit through my cervix, so it would require emergency surgery in order for me to survive – That's why Isaac is staying in town from then on, and why he's training a few other doctors to do the procedure."

"Well it's decided then – We both abstain, together." She squeezed him tightly. " _He is such a wonderful partner,_ " she thought. She said, "William we make quite a strong team – always have." He nodded.

They gathered up their clothes and went into the bedroom to change into their night clothes.

Julia's train of thought brought her to his soothing of her a few nights ago, when she was so upset and weeping with fear and dread. The memory evoked a warm radiation of emotions that swelled around her heart. In her mind's eye she re-ran the memory – the dark room, the familiar smell of William's hair and skin, the hypnotic swing and sway of their bodies as he held her tightly to him and moved her through their private dance, and the soul-touching song he hummed to her. She reminded him that he was going to read her the words to the song. They settled on the couch.

William was slightly regretting his decision to agree to this, feeling insecure about the quality of the song and its ability to meet her expectations. He decided to put it off. He cleared his throat and said, "Actually, I think I would like to read about the time when we first encountered Ms. Gail. Did you write about that?" Julia had also written about her reactions to this case and the other things that arose with it. They agreed that William would read his journal entry first.

 _ **Remember – whenever Julia and I have a conflict, or something that is uncomfortable between us, be brave, bring it up – confront it. It had been tempting to ignore our earlier disagreement, her complaint that I just stood there instead of fighting for her and her point of view with respect to women's rights. It wasn't till I felt anxious opening the door to the morgue that I even really thought about it – had pushed it away as unimportant. Now I think she truly knows she has my support. Especially after this case, I didn't see how completely and unavoidably unfair the world is for women. That a woman would need to impersonate a man to be able to work at something she is talented at. And the general view that women can't keep a cool head – how this permeates politics – is used to say women can't be trusted to vote or hold office. I would trust Julia on matters such as these more than any man I know… She is hot headed – but I don't think it is because she is a woman – I think it is because she is Julia…**_

 _ **I can't seem to get the thought of her standing there in front of me – dressed as a man, and claiming she had no corset on – and how wonderfully free it made her feel – out of my head. Later when we kissed, she had a corset on. My mind kept imagining her without one. Someday…**_

Julia laughed. "Many, many days, hmm?" she mused.

"In more than one sense," he replied, joining her in laughter, "It sure took many, many days to see you, touch you, without a corset on… And I surely have been fortunate to do so for many, many days – nearly every day, I'd say, since that day."

She shifted to sit closer to him and said, "And you have done remarkably well at being brave about facing our difficulties head on. I want you to know how much I appreciate that, William," she finished by kissing him.

"Good," he said. Then he reached over to get her journal for her. She found the page and read:

 _ **I'm absolutely astonished by the feeling of "being" a man. So free and in charge of oneself . Made me even more strongly aware of the injustice of the state of women in the world. William said he supported my fight in this, "completely." Such a relief, to find he would be the one to bring up the tension between us with respect to abandoning me in the face of the Inspector's bullying. He is wonderful. Said he wouldn't rescue me because I didn't need it – showed such respect and empowered me, at least as much as one man can. He suggested he was winsome – he really is. Magnificent kisser too.**_

Julia closed her journal and said, as she crawled into his lap, "The very best kisser," and she kissed him. She broke off the kiss and rested her head down on his shoulder. She sighed and said, "Of course you did have to rescue me eventually – from being buried alive and from the noose…" He nodded and reached out to play with her hair, which was still for the most part pinned up, but quite unruly as a result of their earlier passions. Her mind drifted to remembering when William told her how scared he had been while she was abducted and in peril, unbeknownst to him buried alive – going to die. He had said then that he "never wanted to feel such desperation ever again." It was at this very moment when she had felt so loved by him that she knew she would never be alone again.

Julia took his face in her hands and said, "I realize now, William, that I have never really let myself imagine the impact my death would have on you – I have always been so focused on how _**your**_ death would hurt _**me**_ … I guess the inherent danger in your job just stole all of my attention in this regard." He nodded, held her eyes to his. She sighed, "Now I better understand why it was you, despite being Catholic and adamantly against abortions – and even having threatened to turn Isaac in for performing them, and despite all that, umm, it was you that pushed for me to have an abortion rather than take a chance on having our child." Her eyes dropped to her belly. She continued, "I understand now – the loss for you would be … big. I just didn't think of it from your point of view before William. I'm so sorry – I even feel a little guilty about it."

"Yes, I would be devastated if I lost you, there is no doubt," he answered. "But, as we speculated the other night when we talked about the math of love and loss, it balances in the end … And besides, I never really had a choice about whether to love you this much or not," he explained. He looked over at his journal and said, "The words to the song would show you what I mean. I really had no choice." He reached over to pick up his journal again.

Julia felt herself fill with anticipation. She so wanted to hear what words he had written to the delightful tune.

"The only part I have in here is from after I wrote the song and then I added lyrics to it," he explained as he tried to find the page. "I know I wrote some after the Policeman's Ball," he said. He remembered he had also written some lyrics earlier, around when he first met her, and then again when she went to Buffalo. And he knew he'd written a short piece after they got married. "Julia, I think it would make more sense to put the whole thing together and then read it to you," he finally said. I believe I know where the first piece I wrote is. Let me get it and put it all together … Then I'll share it," he reasoned.

"Can I read the part you have there now – from after the Policeman's Ball, while you look?" she asked. He agreed and passed her the journal. He went into the bedroom while she read it to herself, trying to remember the tune in her mind as she read.

 **I felt you there, at the door,**

 **Something burning, like before,**

 **Take a deep breath, lift my eyes,**

 **Oh, it is you, passions rise.**

 **Owe you nothing, so you say,**

 **Work together, every day,**

 **You'll be with me, it is true,**

 **Seen the future, Oh it's you.**

 **I have loved you all my life. You're the one for me.**

 **Yes with some sacrifice. Always. Always. Love eternally.**

The words evoked the memory from Julia, the memory of seeing him already having spotted her before she found him in the ballroom. Of his smile, and his obvious nervousness as he straightened his cumberbunn. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered her stumbling around her reason for being there – the need to feel his love for her, unbridled by the restraints of her past mistakes, and to truly let him know what he meant to her. She saw the hope in his eyes, felt it in her own heart. In that moment, she knew what it felt like to fly – even better, to soar.

He returned with a very old-looking piece of paper. She could tell it was his handwriting, but it looked different, as twenty years will do to one's patience with writing well once out of school. Their eyes met and William took a deep breath – her tears, her face, showed that she liked at least the part she had read so far. He was relieved and pleased. He had always hoped to find a way to show her how strong and undeniable his love for her had always been. Perhaps this would be one way.

He sat next to her, touched her cheek, marveled in the tear he wiped away. "You like it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Very much," she said.

He took his journal and the old paper and went to the table. He wrote the entire song on the last page of the journal. When he finished he brought it back to her. He handed her the journal and said, "I don't have a guitar, but I want you to hear it." He sat down and pulled Julia in front of him on the couch so that she could sit between his legs and lean back against him. She held the journal open in her lap so she could read along as he sang. Sitting behind her, holding her in his arms, his mouth lined up perfectly with her ear – his volume was low. The intimacy rocked her to the core. He sang:

 **Just a school boy, not alone,**

 **Is another, not yet known.**

 **She is my match, in every way.**

 **I will find her, Oh, one day.**

 **Since before I knew her name, she would be with me,**

 **Partners for life we'll gain. Always. Always. She's my destiny.**

 **Now I see you, took my breath.**

 **Feelings growing, so much depth.**

 **Magic with you, do you know?**

 **I so love you, does it show?**

 **From the first time I met you, I have always thought,**

 **The one for me is you. Always. Always. So I took the shot.**

 **Changing with you, stepping out.**

 **Love grows stronger, there's no doubt.**

 **You take control, go away**

 **I must go on, day to day.**

 **You're around me but not mine. My heart still loves you.**

 **All others I'll decline. Always. Always. For me, love is through.**

 **I felt you there, at the door,**

 **Something burning, like before,**

 **Take a deep breath, lift my eyes,**

 **Oh, it is you, passions rise.**

 **Owe you nothing, so you say,**

 **Work together, every day,**

 **You'll be with me, it is true,**

 **Seen the future, Oh it's you.**

 **I have loved you all my life. You're the one for me.**

 **Yes with some sacrifice. Always. Always. Love eternally.**

 **Fought to be husband and wife. Inevitably.**

 **Together for life. Always. Always. Our love's meant to be.**

Something deep inside of her settled. It felt solid, locked in, permanent. She thought back to the first part of the song – " _He loved me since he was a 'schoolboy' – since before he met me._ " She cleared her throat, "William, it had always amazed me that you were so dedicated to me, that your love was so exclusively for me, that you never chose to take another love after I had left you – even after I married another. But, this song, these thoughts … they suggest a love that is even stronger, deeper, more timeless than I had ever imagined."

She felt him nod his head behind her. He squeezed her tighter, pulled her closer. "Mmm," he said.

"I am so sorry to risk putting you in danger of suffering the pain umm, … I understand why you couldn't sleep the other night. I wish you didn't have to worry… Oh my god I so hope I come through this alright … and that we have our baby too," she said. She turned to face him. "William, I want you to know that if I … don't make it, I want you to find another. I don't want you to live the rest of your life alone – unloved," she insisted. Her voice began to sound choked-up. "You deserve to be loved," she claimed as she started to cry and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into a hug.

He sighed, dried a tear from her cheek, and said, "I'm glad to know you love me that much… I think in order to function, to get through the next few months, we have to live full speed ahead, Julia. We've made our decision. I feel no regrets about it. The odds are on our side. Remember the math – let's continue to work to make that numerator as big as possible, hmm? Live life to the fullest?"

After a time she asked, "So, you loved me before you met me?"

He explained, "I thought Liza was the one, but from the moment I met you, I knew it was you. There were absolutely no doubts. I had always known I would meet the woman that was meant for me some day – and I knew it was you."

She pushed back and pressed, "What about Enid Jones?"

He sighed. He looked away, but quickly returned to hold her eyes and said, "Well, actually at first, after you told me about your abortion, I decided you were still the one for me and that I would have to find a way to better understand your choice to abort a child. I don't know if you remember, but I came to you, in the morgue … and I asked you to join me, umm, to go with me to a battery exhibit. I wanted to work it out, you and me. But you declined – I felt the rift was not only on my part, but you had seen a side of me that you couldn't love – I guess the religious, rigid side." William shifted his position and continued, "I tried to tell myself I had been wrong – that there really wasn't a woman out there meant for me after all. And since there wasn't any particular woman, then why not try to love Enid … It was futile though Julia – It really was you, always had been, and always would be."

Julia focused on their journals. She said, "Perhaps our next journal journey, hmm?" She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a gleeful squeeze. This time he winced. "William …"

His face wrinkled into an apologetic expression and he said, "Umm, Julia … Umm, well you know how you were feeling guilty about the risk you, well really, we, decided to take that I might lose you as we tried to have this baby?" She nodded. "Well, umm, I feel guilty too. Umm, I … well in apprehending the suspect today …"

She pushed herself up off of the couch and said, "What happened? Where are you hurt? Let me see!" He pulled up his pajama top and turned to the side so she could see the bruise. She lifted the lamp to better see it. "William, It could be fractured. We should not have … done what we did earlier. I need to wrap it and you need to minimize your movements for at least two weeks," she prescribed.

After she had wrapped his ribcage and they went to bed, she felt him press up against her. She could feel he was aroused – he wanted to make love. She rolled her eyes at herself – her sexual urges had been, and continued to be, completely unruly lately. "William," she said, "I don't believe I am strong enough to deny you."

She could feel his mouth bend up into a smile against her neck. "I'll be careful – and besides, it just one more action that will make the numerator bigger," he said as he rolled her over.

"We only have a few more months anyway – Perhaps it's worth the pain?" Julia asked.

His hands traveled down her body, igniting both of their desires into flames and he said, "Definitely."

 _(As the song said, "Yes with some sacrifice… Magic with you.")_


	9. Chapter 9

Journal Journeys_Me & Mrs. Jones

Julia got home to their hotel suite before William. He was stopping by to check on the construction of their house. Many of his more intriguing, and secret, plans for their future home stirred childlike wonder and excitement in her. It would be challenging not to have more people than needed to know find out about the installation of secret passageways and a tunnel for stealthy entrance or exit from the house. She felt like she was living in a novel. Of course, life with William had many other factors that brought on that quality as well. She reminded herself that his birthday was coming up soon and she still hadn't thought up an idea for a gift that sufficiently excited her. " _There's still time,_ " she thought.

As soon as she removed her shoes the exhaustion seemed to hit her. Now two months pregnant, she wondered how much harder it would get as she got further along. Today at the morgue was hectic, but she would not normally have felt this tired. Her feet hurt, her back hurt, " _Maybe a quick, hot, shower_ ," she thought to herself as she strained to remove her corset herself. She had already reasoned that she would have to stop wearing a corset soon. She needed to go to the dressmaker and have some dresses made for her upcoming change in shape too. She added it to her mental to-do list. She ordered dinner and then hurried to finish her shower before their dinner arrived, just in case William took longer than expected.

When William walked in the door and was hanging his hat, he heard the shower running. He himself was hot and sweaty from bicycling home, and he hoped to do the same thing before dinner. He decided to keep the flowers he had bought for Julia in his hand when he went to ask her if she had already ordered dinner. His body anticipated the sight of her naked, drenched body, as he entered the steamy bathroom. He noticed and chuckled at the automatic response. She was humming, and he thought to himself how wonderful it was that she was happy. "Julia, are you almost done?" he asked, volume high in order to be heard above the spray of the shower.

"William! You're home," she replied. She turned the water off and added, "I have already ordered dinner – it should be here any moment."

He waited at the door, "Good," he answered, deciding he would have to shower later.

Julia pulled the shower curtain back and quickly caught his eye. She enjoyed William's inability to keep his eyes to hers, feeling her insides twist and tighten as he dropped his eyes to absorb her body. Delighted by the feel of the moment – warm, damp air filling their lungs, misty curves entrancing his eyes, the couple paused. His eyes still black and low, she walked to stand in front of him. Reaching up to undo his tie she said, "The flowers are lovely William."

He had forgotten he had them in his hand. Pressing her wet body against his fully clothed one, she kissed him – soft, malleable, and then deep, basking in the taste of him. There was a knock at the door. Slowly, they broke off the kiss. William cleared his throat and said, "I'll get it."

Julia giggled and said, "Yes, I think that would be best."

After William closed the door behind the servers, he turned to find his wife standing behind him, now cloaked in her robe. She stepped in and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Husband," she said, "There is a dilemma for you… Shower, and then maybe you will be able to entice me into … getting closer to you … or … a warm dinner." She unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and opened it. She leaned in to lightly kiss him.

Self-conscious about his sweaty state, he kept his hands at his sides and replied, "Well, wife, I do prefer a warm dinner to a cold one…" She scratched the back of his neck along his hairline, pulling him to her, and kissed him more deeply, provoking a rise in his desires. She broke off the kiss and rested her chin on his shoulder. He exhaled, hot and strong across her ear and flooding down her neck. He found the sash on her robe and untied it. Then he slid his hands under the silky fabric. He stroked smoothly up her sides to find her breasts, gliding his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. Quietly, she moaned, the sound lighting a fuse in his groin. "Join me," he said, then taking her in a passionate kiss as he slid the robe over her shoulders and let it drift to the floor.

They stood under the falling water together, relishing in the taste as they kissed and sucked the liquid off of each other. Julia soaped up her hands and swam them all over William's body, creating heavenly sensations for both of them. Once he was sufficiently lathered, she slipped back into his arms. The sudsy surface between them allowed for the most exquisite shimmying of chest along breasts and belly across belly. William tenderly nibbled on her earlobe, then whispered, "I want you," as he pressed his knee between hers, tempting her to spread her thighs further apart.

"Not here William – I can't," she said, her voice husky and low with arousal.

He turned her around to let the water run down her body, rinsing away the soap. Quickly he rinsed himself off as well, turned off the water, and gave her a hand to step out of the tub. He closed the bathroom door and backed her up into it. They made love against the bathroom door, both soaking wet.

Dinner was cold – although the warmth between the couple sufficed to content them during the meal. William told Julia that the secret tunnels at the house were completed and well-hidden from sight. He was happy with the work. "You never know when a good secret tunnel may be useful," he said. "There may be an invader with harmful intents," he reasoned.

"Or perhaps you might need to provide flight for a secret lover," she teased, reaching over to bump him with her elbow.

With a smile curled at the edges of his mouth he said, "Now Julia, you know you are the only one for me."

Bringing herself back in line with her plate she said, "Hmm … Although I generally hold that to be true, there was always the case of you and Mrs. Jones, William."

Deciding he was finished, he pushed the plate away. Releasing a sigh, he said, "Mmm yes, Mrs. Jones… Well, she certainly wouldn't classify as a _secret_ lover… and really, my failed attempt at having a relationship her only further solidified my resolve that you were the only one for me in the end." His eyes had risen to meet hers by the end of his statement. They held hers, looking for her reaction.

She looked away, lifted her fork to her mouth and said, "Perhaps," then taking the final bite and pushing her plate away as well. Her eyes still down she added, "I can't deny that it hurt me … It did. I felt a great sense of loss – a loss the likes of which I don't remember ever feeling before that." Finally she looked at him, placed a hand to his cheek, and sighed. Her face betrayed that she was about to admit to something she would rather not. Removing her hand and leaning back in her chair, increasing the distance between them, she turned her eyes away and said, "Jealousy is an awful emotion. It tends to linger with anger … sometimes at the lost love, sometimes at oneself."

Leaning forward to her, he placed his fingers against her chin and turned her face to align with his. "Yes, I know. I have felt it too," he said, as if sharing the unpleasant experience could lessen the burden it caused her.

Julia wrinkled her face at the corners of her mouth and locked her eyes to his more firmly, accepting his truth, and replied, "Yes, I know you have." She stood and started to pack up the dishes. William assisted.

She asked, "William, we were thinking of sharing our journals about this last week. Do you think it might help me … us, umm … feel less of this bad taste in my mouth… about being jealous, I mean?"

He tried to remember what he had written so many years ago. He knew he had written about his struggle trying to let go of Julia – and about his continuous failing in that endeavor. " _There was the time I tried to write an apology letter to Enid, but ended up typing 'Julia' instead,_ " he thought. He answered, "I think there might be some parts to the entries that would enlighten you as to the degree to which I was unable to … stop … loving you." Not wanting to be interrupted, they rolled the dinner cart full of dirty dishes out into the hall, and then sat down on the couch with their journals.

William remembered it the moment he saw the page. He pulled a knee up onto the couch, turning his body so he faced her more directly and read:

 _ **Of course it was the name of the flower. But, when she said it – her voice sounded so misty, so romantic… "I think of you." My body betrayed my truth to me – I still love her. I think I always will. My breath caught – my heart halted and then raced with the hope. She's telling me she still loves me too. But no – just the name of the flower.**_

He looked up, sighed and wrinkled his face. It was working – she felt better. She nudged closer to him, "Yes, I remember it," she said. She took a deep breath and explained, "I told myself that your reaction – your startled look and asking me to clarify what I meant – it was just that you were worried that I was telling you I still loved you, and then you were relieved to find out that that was not what I was doing… And I told myself that if I ever did try to tell you this … And I did _not_ intend to do so when I said the name of the flower… Well, I actually decided I would never tell you because it would make you uncomfortable and it would make you see me in an even worse light than you already did – as a selfish, immoral person. That telling you I still loved you would make you think I was weak and needy too. No," she shook her head, "No, I knew I would never tell you after that."

"Hmm, how much easier things would have been if we just told each other … I even dreamed that I told you that I still loved you – when I was injured, laid up, in my room at Mrs. Kitchen's," William said, rifling through the pages, trying to find the right spot. "You told me I would love another, but not in the same way. You told me that love was like gravity, and I had to let myself fall," he said, finding the page. He decided not to read it. "Oh, it was so pointless though … I was still falling – I swear I felt like I was falling more and more in love with you each day instead of less so," William said, shifting closer to her, demanding her eyes.

That definitely did it – there was no more bad taste in her mouth.

He pushed for more, "At one point, you came into my office with a wolf's tooth – Do you remember?" Julia nodded and William set to finding the right page. "Here it is," he said. Julia reached over and placed her hand on his knee as he read.

 _ **Why is it that when one of Julia's unruly curls escapes and dangles in front of me I am seduced so completely that I fantasize about taking her into my arms and kissing her – right then and there, while when one of Enid's escapes it has no such effect on me? I'm done with this. Julia may not take me back, but I cannot go on with Enid. It's just pointless and unfair.**_

Julia closed his journal. She put it down behind her and climbed into his lap. Her hair had nearly dried, and some of the shorter wisps seemed to dance at the edges of her face. William took one of them in his fingers. She gave him a short, soft kiss. "I feel better. I'm glad you found it so difficult to love another. I really had no idea. I was … terribly hurt, and I, well, you could say I had impure thoughts. I had a dream once that … I think I wrote it down," she said, sliding off his lap and reaching over to get her journal. "Yes ... I did," she said, settling in to read it to him.

 _ **It started so much like a memory. The Inspector was talking with William in his office and I came in. I asked William if he still cared about me. He got up from his desk – picked up a gigantic metal book and punched it into my stomach. He left me holding it, bent over and buckled to the floor in pain – wind knocked out of me, and he just walked out. He left. Then I was suddenly working in the morgue and William came in to tell me how much he loved Enid Jones. That he loved touching her. Suddenly she was there too – standing between us. She reached up and stroked William's face. They were about to kiss. I became furious. I started screaming at them, "Get out! GET OUT!" and I pushed and punched at them. The motions I made in my sleep, along with the screaming, woke me up – brought me out of the dream. I feel my teeth gritted together now as I write this. I am angry. How dare he parade his happiness around in front of me…?**_

 _ **I need to let him go – forget about him. He thinks I'm a piece of dirt anyway. God damn it. Who needs his stiff, religious, judgmental attitude? Let her have him.**_

Clearly, the emotions she read about had taken her, because Julia then slammed the journal closed. It was not until she looked up at his face that she was called back to the present moment. Regret flooded through her. She really wished she hadn't read that part. He looked hurt. She moved closer to him, "William … I'm… I'm sorry. Umm, I was hurt, and jealous, and angry," she cried as tears filled her eyes. "I thought you … were disgusted by me – and that hurt so badly. I know now that you weren't, but I thought so then."

He took a deep breath and moved towards her, trying to reassure her. "Yes, now you know that I never, for one moment, was ever disgusted by you," he sighed and continued, "I knew that I didn't understand why you chose to have an abortion – It's true, but I always believed you were a good person Julia. Always. I figured that it would come to make sense to me some day," he said. "It has, by the way. Umm, much the same way that, at the time, I would never have let a murderer go free, and yet years later it was something I knew I had to do to live with myself … I see now that you had to choose to abort the child – for you, for you to live with yourself. I understand now," he explained, all the while holding his eyes to hers, hoping his sincerity would be apparent to her.

Her tears had stopped as quickly as they had started. She smiled at him. "Yes," she said.

William pondered for a moment. He said, reaching for his journal once more, "You know, I thought you were mad at me – At least on a subconscious level I sensed it. Because I had a dream in which you were … quite angry, and," he said as he looked at her, raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked back to find the right page. "And you were very, umm, rough with me," he finished his thought. Once he found the page he explained that he had had a dream after the Prussian had chloroformed him while he was searching for Enid's lost son, Alwyn.

 _ **I'm sitting at my desk. It's foggy. My head is down on the desk but I hear a noise. I lift my head up – look at the door, "Inspector," I call out, then, "George." Through the glass I see the light get blocked by a red figure, female? The figure is walking away. I get up, open the door – go into a brightly lit room. I fall forward, landing seated at my desk again like before. From behind a billy-club is shoved roughly against my cheek. Julia's voice, "I'll be asking the questions here Murdoch". Julia walks in front of my desk – wearing a tight red, is it leather? dress. It's low cut and skin tight. She looks curvy and so … beautiful. Around her neck there's a black choker with red jewel dangling from the center, and bowler hat. Julia asks, "What's the nature of your relationship with this Mrs. Jones?" She keeps banging the club into her other hand threateningly. Then, from behind me, she pounds the billy-club hard against desk startling me and, grabbing a handful of my hair to hoist my head off of the desk, she spoke into my ear – I could feel her breath. She says, "She fascinates you, doesn't she?" When I awoke I felt aroused and yet also so uncomfortable – Is Julia angry with me for my involvement with Mrs. Jones? Am I afraid of having Julia mad at me?**_

Julia's mind was racing. Although the thought that William was concerned about whether or not she was mad at him back then intrigued her, she found her mind distracted by thoughts about the present instead. " _I need to have my dress maker measure me for a … piece of lingerie, made out of red leather!_ " she thought. " _And I bet I can get a billy-club from George. Oh, he'll love it! I wonder if I can get it done in as little as ten days…I will have to rush…_ " her mind continued. All of a sudden she realized that William was talking to her, was staring at her. She had no idea what he had been saying. Julia shook her head a little, trying to focus on what he said. "I'm sorry William, my mind was elsewhere. What?" she asked.

"Actually," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "I'd rather hear about what you were thinking about."

Julia sighed and leaned back, showing her reluctance. "Uhh," she said.

"Oh, Now I really want to know," he declared as he reached over to slide his hand around her waist and pull her closer to him on the couch.

She cleared her throat and steered the conversation away from her thoughts about planning for his birthday present, "Well… there is an undercurrent to your dream that is very … stimulating. Don't you think?"

"I do," he replied. He leaned over, slipped his fingers deeply into her hair, tenderly cupping her ear, and taking her head firmly in his hand, and he kissed her. He paused the kiss and said, very quietly, in a voice that had such a low tone it melted her inner most being, "Very stimulating indeed." The next kiss was wilder – demanding and hungry. They were suddenly in a rush to be together, naked and close, to be intimately connected in their singular and distinct way. Tea-gowns, shirts and trousers went flying, as if their hot, hurried breathing could blow the garments away. William lowered Julia down on the couch, tucking her underneath his larger body. He roughly grabbed a handful of her hair and used it to pull her head back to open her neck to him. He had every intention of making a conspicuous love-bite mark as he nibbled and then sucked her supple skin. Her moans of pleasure and wanting drove him on. She grabbed at the part of him she most wanted, guiding him to her slippery opening. He let go of her neck and lowered himself, lining up with her entry. Julia reached around to take a firm hold of his buttocks and pull him with all of her might down into her, surging his forward motion with a fierce moan as their contact exploded her anticipation of him filling her. They danced together on their couch, creating a rhythm that rocked their souls and a song of gasps and moans, hot, hurried breaths and heartbeats, which brought them to that momentary and eternal treasured paradise that only they knew.

Huddled together, both of them sweaty, world's slowing and spinning, they savored the sensations of completeness. "Oh William," Julia said, "I never dreamed this could feel so good. Everything is so much more intense now that I'm pregnant."

"That's a good thing, is it not?" he asked.

She caressed his cheek and answered with a chuckle, "Yes William, yes, it's a good thing."

"Good," he said. He rolled onto his side, freeing her. She stayed, bent a knee to orient herself more directly at him, and shifted her admiring touches to his shoulder and then down to the muscles on his arm. William tenderly explored down her body with his fingers. His eyes turned to rest on his hand as it stopped to cover and stroke her skin just above the mound of hair between her thighs. His mind drifted to thoughts about their child growing within her.

Julia said, "My womb's forcefully stronger contractions during our lovemaking would better prepare it for labor, if that were what I was going to do. It's so ironic that I will have these super strong uterine muscles, and instead of using it, someone will just cut it open… Science is amazing – It came up with another way, hmm?" She lifted her head to look at him. She recognized the expression, but it still surprised her. He was focused on his inner imaginings – he was solving a case. She knew something she had said or done had triggered a thought that broke things open for him. She waited.

Eventually he took a breath and turned to focus on her face. He was back. "Julia, you've done it again!" he declared excitedly. "Of course… I, everyone, just assumed she had to leave through the front door – as herself, but no one noticed her leaving as a suitcase – She was small enough to fit in the suitcase… And that means she had an accomplice – whoever carried the suitcase out – the carriage driver!" he explained. He was already off the couch. Julia followed him into the bedroom. They reasoned through the case as he dressed. He left, after calling the stationhouse to have a constable accompany him, to arrest the culprits. It would be a late night.

After the door closed behind him, Julia sighed. She couldn't help but worry, but at least she knew he would have a constable with him. She decided to read a medical journal for a while before attempting to sleep. Eventually she changed into her nightgown and turned out the lights, hoping sleep would come. Images of William discovering her in her sexy, red birthday suit ran a thrill through her. She fantasized about what would happen, until, at one point her mind came upon a thought that by then she would be nearly three months pregnant. Her thoughts now on the child growing inside of her, she felt grateful, fortunate. Sleep finally came.

When Julia awoke it was morning and William was sleeping next to her. Propped up on an elbow, she admired her husband in the warm glow of the dawn light. Images of sliding skin along skin, all soapy and warm in the shower the previous evening played in her mind, bringing a smile to her face and a twist of arousal to her insides. Feeling weak in the face of her desires, she decided to seduce him. "William, are you awake?" she whispered in his ear.

"Mmm," he replied, not moving a muscle. She started by running her fingers through his hair – he had left it as it was when he had gotten out of the shower, probably being too rushed to get to the arrests to consider adding the usual greasy treatments. Next, her fingers traveled the contours of his face. A light kiss to his lips, and still he did not stir. " _Oh, he's enjoying this,_ " she thought. Julia slid her hand under the blankets and undid the first few buttons on his pajama top. William still feigned sleeping. Her hand then slipped under the fabric to scratch and stroke his chest. Her husband remained motionless and tranquil. " _Hmm_ ," she thought, " _He's milking this for all it's worth._ " Deciding to call his bluff, she ceased, just looking, waiting.

"Don't stop," his lovely voice whispered.

Joy took her for a ride. Her fingers once again made their exquisite contact. She added to the sensations, however, sliding her thigh over him and kissing his ear. Only moments later, he was quite involved in the sharing of loving touches. They made tender, sleepy, deep, love.

Over breakfast they discussed the case William had solved, with the stirring of his thoughts by Julia's reflections on there being more than one way to get a baby out of a uterus. Both suspects had confessed. The conversation migrated to discussing the construction of the house. As they were clearing the dishes, placing them on the cart to be taken back to the kitchen by the servers, William said that the outer walls would be going up today, and soon after the frame for the roof. Julia, who was standing to load the cart, stopped behind her husband who was still seated. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck to give him a soft kiss on his neck. He guided her to his lap. Playing with one of her curls, eyes exploring her bosom, he said, "I need to stop by and talk to Jason before they start installing the inner walls upstairs. The master bathroom will need a bigger tub which should rest tightly up against the wall."

Julia placed a finger under his chin and lifted his face to bring his eyes to hers. She teased him, eyebrow raised, "Whatever for?"

He cleared his throat, feeling the slightest flush of blood running to his face, and replied, "To improve our … showering experiences."

Julia continued her taunting, "And, pray tell, what would a bigger tub, or it's being closer to the wall, have to do with improving one's experience taking a shower?" she asked as she leaned down to kiss and nibble on his ear. "Hmm?" she pressed with her voice low and intimate, sliding into his brain.

His mouth close to her ear, he answered, "I said _**our**_ showering experiences … you and me … together." His hand moved down from her hip to her thigh. He pulled back and tilted his head, waiting for a kiss.

Julia obliged him, bringing her lips down to meet his. As the kisses deepened, William found the hem at the bottom of her skirt and slid his hand under it to caress the inside of her knee, and then travel up to stroke her inner thigh. "Mmm," she moaned, "I see. Yes, a bigger tub, closer to the wall…that sounds like a good plan." She agreed. She stood up and asked, "Will you be riding your bicycle to work?"

"Yes," he answered, "Perhaps I'll stop by the site on my way to see if Jason is there."

"Good," she replied.

"Lunch?" William asked.

"Oh, not today… I have some errands I need to run," she replied, knowing she needed to set her birthday plans into motion as soon as possible, "Sorry." They kissed and headed their separate ways.

 **William's Birthday**

" _A birthday treasure hunt, what better plan to make a detective happy?"_ she thought, " _And a big surprise at the end that he will surely love._ " The plan was set-up for tonight to be the night. Constable Higgins would hand William the first clue just before he would be readying to leave work. By nightfall, the clues would lead him to their new, still under construction, house. Once there, he would follow the candlelight to come to the "room" that would eventually be his workroom in the basement, to be greeted by a picnic blanket set-up complete with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and absinthe. Still no Julia to be found, he would next most likely notice, under a big red bow, his new desk. The clues would lead him to sit in the chair at the desk. Behind him, in the entrance to the secret tunnel, Julia would be hiding in her sexy, red-leather outfit, ready to "question" him. Her stomach flipped with anticipation.

Higgins reported that William received the first clue at around seven o'clock. Even if he were fast, he wouldn't be here before 7:30, and, since he would be using his bicycle, probably not until 7:45. Julia hid herself in the secret tunnel entrance at 7:30 to play it safe. The door/wall to the secret tunnel would eventually be a bookshelf, but for now it was simply a "door" cut into the wall. Inside, it was dark and narrow. She stood in the hiding place, illuminated only by the candlelight slipping through the cracks outlining the door. She was wearing a corset-shaped red leather top, which revealed a great deal of cleavage between the laces in the front. For bottoms her dress maker had made a pair of very short red leather "bloomers," but they were so short that the curves of her buttocks could be seen below the bottom of them. She was pleased with how she looked in the costume, her pregnancy "bump" barely detectable. She had chosen to wear the same black tie William wore when he surprised her in his "dream costume" many months ago. A cute little bowler-type red hat she had found was pinned into her hair. The final details were a scandalous pair of red high heels and the billy-club she had gotten from George.

Her heart pounded in her chest when she finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. " _He really is a remarkable detective,_ " she thought as she waited, hoping he would end up sitting in the chair at the desk as she had planned. Unable to see the doorway through the crack in the door, she would have to wait for him to cross and sit in the chair to know for sure that it was him, but then …

"Julia?" he called out.

" _It is him_ ," she thought, feeling both relieved and highly excited at the same time. " _Notice the desk William_ ," she pleaded in her mind. Soon she saw him pass and sit in the chair in front of her. He opened the "file" on the desk and began to investigate the contents. He certainly seemed interested, as he slowly examined each of the postcards inside. " _Great_ ," she thought, " _My devious plan has worked – Even William Murdoch can't pass up on enjoying, when thinking he is alone, pictures of nearly naked women holding seductive poses!"_

The door to the secret tunnel creaked slightly as Julia opened it, prompting William to turn his head, but she got to him before he could turn sufficiently to see her. From behind him, she abruptly planted the center of the billy-club under his cheekbone.

"Julia?" he asked.

"I'll be asking the questions here Murdoch," she said in an authoritative voice, tantalizingly close to his ear. William's heart raced, his mind began to spin, his stomach flipped, and his groin jolted, as he tried to piece together her plan for him. He quickly made the connection to his "dream" about Julia's reaction to his … interest, in Mrs. Jones. His mind rushed ahead to remembering telling her about slamming billy-clubs and hair-pulling. Suddenly he remembered the red leather dress – _"What will she be wearing?"_ he thought, pumped with eagerness.

Removing the billy-club from his cheek and beginning her ominous, repetitive banging of the club in her hand, Julia walked to the front of the desk. She stood menacingly in front of him, continuing the foreboding motion with the billy-club. She was more stunning than William had even dared to imagine. He couldn't help but stare. The look on his face was already enough reward for Julia – she was in seventh heaven. Making every effort not to smile – to remain in character, Julia coached herself to keep her voice deep and aggressive and demanded, "So, it is in your nature to fantasize about the women in the provocative photographs?"

"Err, uh, no. Julia, no," he replied, stumbling and blushing through the denial.

Fortunately, Julia had walked behind him again, out of his sight, when the unavoidable smile appeared on her face. She pushed her glee away for the urgency of the moment. Directly behind him now, as he turned to try to see her, she leaned to the opposite side and hurtled the billy-club hard down against the desk. "Bang!" the thunderous sound exploded, making William jerk, and erupting pangs of joyous excitement within her. She reached down and took a handful of the hair on the back of his head, using it to pull his head back. She said in his ear, scarcely above a whisper, "The enticing pictures fascinate you, don't they?" Not waiting for an answer from him, she took his neck in her teeth and then sucked the tender skin up into her mouth. Both startled and thrilled by his moan, she increased the pressure, guaranteeing the leaving of a mark.

He attempted to turn the rotating chair and touch her. She released his neck and once again hurled the oppressing billy-club down on the desk. "I will tell you when you can touch!" she instructed. He immediately acquiesced, encouraging her as he showed he agreed to play the game. She smiled.

"Jacket off," her sharp voice commanded from behind him. She walked to stand in front of his chair as he removed his jacket. His eyes held hers – her insides melted and flipped at the sumptuous sight of him. He was clearly very aroused, and she was fighting to stay in control of her desires. "Vest," she demanded. Keeping his eyes mesmerizingly glued to hers, he unbuttoned the vest and slid it off, tossing it to the ground to rest on top of his discarded jacket. "The tie is mine," she said, tucking the billy-club into the back of her pants and approaching him. William's eyes ravaged her cleavage while she seductively pulled the tie in reverse through its knots, and then slid it around the back of his neck. She draped it around her neck and pulled out the billy-club once more. "Now the shirt," she ordered, as she stepped back to enable herself a better view. William slowly removed the shirt, watching her eyes as they widened at the sight of his naked chest. The shirt quickly joined the pile.

Julia tucked the billy-club into the back of her pants again and glided the tie around her neck to firmly hold it in her hands. She stepped close to him, took one of his wrists and tied it to the chair with the tie. Afterwards she hesitated, and then slid her fingernails along his chest. "Lovely," she said. It sent a chill of excitement through him. She stepped back and watched his torment with his lust as she alluringly removed "the dream tie" from her neck. She tied his other hand to the chair as well. Julia sat in his lap, straddling him. They both felt the firm contact he made with her as his groin rose in his trousers to press against the bottom of her short, red leather "bloomers.

"Now you keep that under control mister," she threatened, as she took his head in her hands, raking her fingernails against his scalp. She kissed him, rough and passionately. She nibbled and kissed down his neck and shoulders. Harshly, she pushed against his chest and stood up, sending the chair and its captive rolling backwards. She kneeled in front of him. William felt his ability to keep control slide away into the dizzy spinning of his mind. In an effort to call it back he pleaded, "Julia …"

She reached up and forcefully covered his mouth with her hand. Her glare commanded silence. Her hands claimed his stomach for her mouth, reaching back behind him, digging her nails in and pulling him, chair and all, closer to her. Her lips, teeth and tongue devoured his stomach and then traveled southward towards his trousers, which her fingers were hurriedly unbuttoning. William moaned and then wildly twitched. "Remain still!" Julia barked. "Lift up your hips." She ordered, and then slid his trousers and underwear down to pool at his feet. Feeling completely exposed now, William began to look uncomfortable.

To distract him, Julia stood up and held his eyes. She found the bow at the top of the strings holding her red leather corset-top closed and pulled it, releasing some of the pressure of her breasts against the leather as the string gave way. She unlaced her top down to her belly button and then sat once again in William's lap. She placed her hands behind his head and guided his mouth to the paradise created in the space between her breasts. He moaned as his cheeks touched the soft skin and her scent flooded his senses. He kissed and sucked the malleable flesh. Julia lifted herself away from him, stood and removed her bottoms. William twitched with desire once more. She lifted a leg over him to stand hovering over his erection. Reaching down to line up his entry, she let gravity play its role and smoothly sat down, letting him decisively fill her up inside. She found the neckties binding him to the chair and undid them, releasing his hands. She started the motion they both knew so intimately with her hips, soon allowing William to take over. His hands firmly gripped her hips, pulling her down to him, and he thrust strongly up into her. Julia tightly wrapped her arms around his neck and found his ear lobe, taking it in her mouth and moaning passionately, sending the sound deep, deep into his very soul. He pumped harder and deeper until the explosions of pleasure rocked them both over the edge of ecstasy.

Finished, drunk with delight, William tried to speak, "I … uh,"

Julia whispered, her breath husky, warm and damp smothering his ear and flowing into his brain, "Happy Birthday William."

After they had redressed, Julia in the dress she had worn to the site, they indulged in their meal and some absinthe. They lie together on the picnic blanket, kissing and feeling a rise in desires once again, when they heard a voice call out from upstairs in the dark. Constable Marks had noticed the candlelight coming from the "unoccupied" home and decided to investigate, concerned about potential vandals or ne'er-do-wells. They reassured him all was well and thanked him for watching out for the safety and security of their home.

After the constable left, William sighed. The potential for having been discovered in their quite compromising states of amorous activity earlier sent a both a thrill and a bolt of relief through him.

Julia teased, "But William, you know that was part of what made it exhilarating!"

He turned red and said, "Only part of the thrill, Julia … Only part of it." They shared a laugh and then packed up and headed home. William left his bicycle and they took a cab. On the ride home he made sure to tell her that her present was surely the best birthday present he had ever received. They both knew they would keep it as a fond memory until the end of their days.

Julia asked, "And about you and this Mrs. Jones …?"

William blushed again and said, "Believe me Julia, you should be more worried about the photographs."

"Yes," she said, "I must remember to remove them from your desk drawer … Or do you want to keep them as part of your present?"

William cleared his throat and blushed even more, "I am plenty aroused by my beautiful wife, thank you very much. Besides, I will be abstaining from lovemaking for a while, along with you, very soon – within only a short month. Let's play it safe and remove temptation, hmm?" William reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the photos. He handed them over to Julia.

She took them and playfully hit him with them. "You pocketed them William?!" she exclaimed. "These are definitely going into the fire, husband," she said, tucking them safely away in her purse, and then lovingly tucking her arm under his elbow. They laughed and shook their heads. A happier birthday there could never be.


	10. Chapter 10: Late to Class

Journal Journeys_Late to Class

Julia's voice purred close to his ear, breathless, spent, satiated, "Oh William, that was spectacular."

"Mmm," seemed to be all he had left, yet his chuckle at his own state of exhaustion suggested he had a bit more remaining energy than he had thought.

Julia joined in the humor and teased, as she turned her head to nibble on his ear, "I do hope you'll be able to make it to work, detective."

He rolled them over, putting Julia on top, wrapped his arms and legs around her, breathed in the scent of her and replied, "Perhaps we should call in sick today," tilting his head, inviting her to kiss him – Which she gladly did.

Later, dressed for work and sitting at the tiny table in their hotel suite, they shared plans for the day over breakfast. Excitedly William told her that the house construction was going along very well. Julia asked him to pull out the plans – She had been thinking, and wondered if it were not too late to make an adjustment. William asked what she wanted to change, figuring he knew the plans so well he would not need to pull them out to determine if it could be done.

Julia's hesitation signaled some potential trouble. For her part, she was concerned that they might disagree about what she was thinking, and she was trying to decide if it would be better to put it off till another time. She decided to barrel ahead. She exhaled strongly and lifted her eyes to meet his firmly, provoking William's stomach to twinge with worry. He held the unwavering eye-contact and tried to prepare himself.

"We agreed we need a live-in nanny," she started.

He nodded. " _So, the 'servants' argument again_ ," he thought.

Julia continued, "And that we will need someone part-time to clean and cook …"

William nodded and added, "Yes, the house itself will help with the cleaning."

She knew he was particularly proud of the innovative appliances he had designed into the house, such as a cupboard that washed the dishes, and even one to wash and dry clothes, and so warned herself to be careful here. Leaning back in her chair and placing her napkin down on the table, she said, "Yes, your inventions will _help_ with cleaning the house, but we will still need someone to put the dishes and dirty clothes in the appliances … and then take them out and put them away later. That will take a lot of time, William, and work."

Now here was the crux of it. They had reached the point where they disagreed… and they both knew it. William thought he could skirt the issue by focusing on whatever she specifically had in mind for the building of the house, completely avoiding the moral debate over whether a person should be responsible for their own maintenance in the world. He asked, "So what did you want to change about the house plans?"

She sighed. She had decided to state it plainly. "William, I believe we need to add a residence for a live-in maid as well… She can also do the cooking," she said as calmly as possible.

William's mind shot down multiple paths at once. His innovator side envisioned the plans, and knowing it was too difficult to change the foundation of the house at this stage of construction, he imagined building a second story over the first-floor nanny's quarters. His hedonistic side envisioned coming home from work to be met by a maid who took his hat and coat, the smell of warm beef stroganoff wafting through the air – But, in his heart he felt shame accompanied with this vision of himself. Good people didn't see themselves as more deserving than others. Strong, hearty people took care of themselves, at least that was what he was taught, and it seemed to be a part of how he defined himself. The emotions won out. He answered, with a wrinkle of concern at the corner of his mouth, "Julia, I think we should do some of these things for ourselves."

Pushing away from the table and standing up, she argued, "But William that is unrealistic! We both work long, hard hours… And we will want to have some time and energy for each other – And our child, when we get home … Not for cleaning and cooking!" Her eyes met his. They seemed to be pleading with him to see reason. "William, when you married me you became a man who could afford these things. You say you want to make me happy. Well making me clean diapers and scrub floors will not make me happy," she said, planting her hands on her hips.

William stood, turning his attention to clearing the dishes and preparing the cart to be returned to the kitchen.

Annoyed that he was either stalling, or avoiding answering her all together, she pushed, "Well?"

He kept his head down and quietly said, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy." He sighed. He felt completely stuck.

Julia's arms flung out to her sides, demonstrating her exasperation, "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

William knew that honesty took the most courage. It always had. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. He said, "It is always me who has to give in, bend, change, adjust. You always get your way."

Every cell in his body waited for her strike. Right now she was stunned; she had actually had to take a step back to catch her balance, wobbling from the shock of his accusation. Her mouth was agape, her eyes out of focus. But he knew it was coming, and it would be powerful, stinging. He was rushing to pull up his defenses. He didn't want to be there when she attacked. Her hands started the assent to her hips. Her eyes narrowed, turning to mere pinpricks of black targeting from within the heavenly blue. Her chin was still dropped, but it was only a matter of time until she pulled up her jaw to engage her lips in battle. He did not want to be there for that. He serenely stated, "We can't argue about this now. We'll be late for work." Then he turned to walk to the foyer, lifted his hat to his head.

Her voice steamed behind him, "Don't you dare walk out that door. You think you can say something like that and then just walk away?!"

William paused, his back to her, trying to decide what to do. Not looking back he said, "We'll have to discuss it tonight," as he stepped to the door and pulled it open.

Fighting disbelief again, she called out after him, "You cowardly little piss-ant!"

As he closed the door behind him, he knew she was right. He would bike to work, hoping that there would not be a dead body called in today – hoping he could avoid seeing her until they would have time to work it out later. The physical exercise would help alleviate some of the urgency that pumped through him due to his worry.

Julia stood staring at the closed door. The sight of it only made her fury burn stronger. She wanted to hit something, break something… She had flung it to the floor before she even thought of picking it up – their wedding-day photo. Broken glass sparkled across the floor. Shame and regret immediately flooded through her. She knew she had a temper, but this reaction surprised her. She was only grateful that William hadn't seen her do it. She could clean it up – perhaps he would never know. Rage still seethed through her veins as she carefully collected the shards, "Always get my way, my a**," she thought. "If I always got my way, he'd have stayed and fought … little piss-ant," she fumed.

Making a mental note to stop by the store and buy a new frame for the photo, Julia rolled the food cart into the hallway to be picked up by the kitchen crew later. Consciously making an effort not to slam it, she closed the door behind her. " _While you're at it_ ," she thought to herself, " _Perhaps you could unclench your jaw_."

Unpinning her hat and laying it down on the table in the foyer, she realized William was not yet home. She had seen his bicycle still parked at the station, so she wasn't surprised, but still, she thought her stop at the store to purchase the picture frame may have sufficed to allow for him to arrive first. She wondered if he would ever notice the new frame, " _Most men wouldn't, but William isn't like most men_ ," she thought. She felt a sense of relief that she had replaced the frame before he got home. A glass of wine sounded good, but she didn't want to be drinking when they had their 'discussion' so she abstained.

Knowing it would make her anxious to just sit and wait for him, she decided to take a shower. The hot water felt so good as it flowed over her, steaming and kneading the knots out of her muscles. Since becoming pregnant, she found she was much more tired after a day's work than she used to be. Soaping her belly, she couldn't help but soften when thinking of William. She still couldn't really believe their good fortune for her to be able to have a baby – his baby and her baby, their child. She heard it first in the back of her mind – William's voice, low and despondent, " _It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy."_ It evoked such a feeling of hopelessness, of failed struggle, in her. It felt so familiar, close ... and sad. " _What did he mean by that? … It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy_ ," she thought.

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Julia, I'm home. Should I order dinner?" he asked.

"Um, yes William… I'll be right out," she answered.

"Good," he said.

A creepy, sick feeling of dread grew in her stomach. Her anger seemed very far away. She dressed and pulled her hair up, not wanting to have this discussion in her robe.

He was sitting on the sofa. He'd taken off his jacket and vest, even his tie. He was reading a science magazine. Their eyes met, his dropping away quickly. He stared at the magazine, unable to read it. "I really don't want to fight Julia," he said.

"I don't want to either," she said, slowly, deliberately, sincerely. She sat down in the chair across from him. She wished he could feel her love for him. It wasn't done yet, but she knew with all her heart that they loved each other and that they would work it out. But somehow, looking at him there, eyes down on the magazine, rubbing his forehead in distress, she thought he didn't feel the same.

They stayed quiet for a surprisingly long time, neither one wanting to be the first to speak. William lifted his head, glanced her way, and deeply exhaled away some of the tension in his body. Looking her in the eye, he started, "You were right, it was cowardly of me not to … stay and talk this morning." His eyes were gone again. He sighed. " _It just feels too big,_ " he thought to himself. He went back to turning the pages of the magazine.

Julia leaned forward in her chair. "William," she said, "There are two ways to go about this; we can address the particulars –whether or not to hire a live-in maid, or we can talk about what makes this such an issue for … us."

He thought, " _She was going to say, 'you,' – what makes this such an issue for_ **you** _. I don't even think she sees that it's an issue for her too."_ They both knew they needed to address the issue. He tried again, leaning forward as well, he said, "I think it's a class issue. Do you agree?"

"Yes," she concurred. She waited for him. He seemed to be on the way to making a point.

Sighing, and scratching his forehead, he went on, "We grew up in very different ways, and … well, those differences made us each who we are. They instilled in each of us certain … values – ideals for what is the right way to be in the world." Julia nodded. " _Oh, how do I say this … without sounding judgmental – without being hurtful?_ " he considered. "And each of us thinks our way is right," he said, wrinkling his face, showing his admission.

She picked it up, "But sometimes we have to make a decision – and we can't both be 'right,' … And from what you said this morning, you think the one who gives up what they think is right is you, more so than me?" He sighed and nodded. She felt her anger stir again. " _He is so arrogant and self-righteous sometimes,_ " she thought. She could tell he saw it.

He exhaled strongly, through pursed lips. " _Here it comes,_ " he thought. He reminded himself to look her in the eye – be strong.

"Do you think I would have wanted us to _**build**_ a house for us to live in? And then, to top it off, you wanted to take out a loan to pay for it! That's just ludicrous… The only reason I agreed to such a plan was that the interest to the loan was going to be less than most of the profits we are making on our assets. Honestly William, we both know you are a smart man … And I've shared with you how much money we have. It is obvious we don't need to take out a loan. But…" she paused to take a breath. "But your _**male pride**_ – We had to protect _**your**_ _male pride_. You needed to feel like you were providing for your family," she said shaking her head in disbelief. She took a deep breath and planted her hands firmly on her hips, "Well I guess that doesn't count as me 'giving up what I think' though, does it?" She waited with a huff that sent some of her wayward curls briefly afloat.

Whatever wind there had been in his sails, it was completely gone now. He couldn't believe how much he hurt. With his elbow on the arm of the sofa, he rested his chin down onto his fist, covering his mouth. Sighing again, he couldn't imagine staying in the room with her. He stood and said, "Well, if I did have any male pride, you completely squashed it… I need some air."

Hat already on his head, he opened the door to find their dinner cart had just pulled up. Julia could hear one of the men from the kitchen ask William about his poor timing, "Hopefully you can make it back before it gets too cold, sir."

"Thanks, Ben… Don't worry about me," she heard her husband say.

In William's absence Julia quickly admitted to herself that she did not feel good about how it went. Once again, she had gone too far, had dug in and poked and stabbed at a weak spot. She noticed she sighed again. " _Regret_ ," she thought. She had to admit, that, because William seemed so eager to please her, and because she was so enthusiastic about the things she wanted, she did usually get what she wanted – got her way. And then, the one thing he really wanted, seemed compelled and driven about, was to build this house for her – " _To give her such a wonderful gift,"_ she thought as she felt tears well up in her eyes and a lump swelling in her throat. And she had just belittled it. He would not be able to feel that way about it again, not after what she had said. " _Oh my god, I think I really hurt him_ ," she thought, curling her forehead up in pain and tears pouring down her cheeks. It truly _**is**_ a wonderful house – one that nobody but William could ever have dreamt up. It was a great gift he was giving her, and she had been nothing but ungrateful – and shameful.

She ate – a little. When he still wasn't back by 10:00 she became annoyed all over again. He was trying to make her feel guilty – which of course, she already did. They both had to go to work the next day – They needed to go to sleep. She figured he would not want to sleep with her when he got home, so she put out some bedding for him on the couch. She placed his pajamas on the top of the pile.

Sleep did not come. At one point she realized that, if they stuck to their plan, today was the last day they would have been able to make love. She was entering her fifth month of pregnancy tomorrow. Isaac had thought it wise that they abstain from anything that would bring about muscle contractions in her womb from then on. William was abstaining along with her, thinking that if she brought him such pleasure, it would entice her into feeling aroused as well. " _He was right about that,_ " she thought. She rolled over again. Despair drowned her. And then it seeped up again, " _It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy_ ," he had said. She remembered where she had heard it before. They were her words. She had said them. The pauper boy, Pip, who had been killed, and lay on the slab in her morgue, bones with Ricketts, but darning a wealthy child's clothes. " _The clothes don't fit the boy_ ," she had said. She knew this was important, but she couldn't quite get a handle on why.

The key turned in the door. William was home. She sat up, looked at the clock – 11:30. The lamp next to the couch went on. " _He must have seen the bedding,_ " she thought. She felt as if she had to climb up Mount Everest, but she knew she had to. Julia got out of bed and headed into the dim light.

William was down to his trousers. He turned and looked up at her. His expression suggested he would have preferred to be left alone. He had prepared the couch for the night. He sat down on it, choosing to finish changing later. He held her eyes, but made no effort to speak.

He looked gorgeous in this lighting, eyes big, skin golden and warm. His bare chest tugged at her eyes, her attention. She thought about saying she was sorry. But she knew she needed to give much more than that. Fortunately, her curiosity poked at her. She asked, from across the room, "Help me see it William. What did you mean when you said, "It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy?"

William dropped his eyes and sighed. "I'm tired Julia … and … somewhat defeated. I …" he said and then shook his head. He reached up and rubbed his forehead again. "Perhaps you can read about it – See if you can figure it out from there," he said. He stood up and walked into the bedroom. He returned with his journal. He opened it to a page, turned the page down and then found another. He had earmarked two parts for her to read. He went back to the couch and turned off the light. "Good night," he said as he lay down and slid under the sheets.

She went back to the bed and turned on the lamp. " _Chronological order, I guess,_ " she thought. She read the first page William had marked:

 **The Dinosaur Ball:**

 **Tickets to the ball, thanks to the Inspector, check.**

 **Courage to ask her to the ball, check.**

 **Dance lessons, check.**

 **Tuxedo rental, check.**

 **I stood in my humble boarding room. I had a problem to solve, something I had not prepared for. The tuxedo fit well, at least I thought so, but since I had never had one on before, I wasn't really sure if it was too long in the back, or too short in the cummerbund area. I fought a bit with the bow tie. Oh, but I hadn't thought about the shoes. I only have two pairs, and so I guessed it would have to be my work shoes. Unfortunately they were a bit worn. I solved the problem with shoe polish as best as possible.**

 **But there was another problem, a bigger, more profound one. Truth be told, I felt like an imposter. Like I was wearing a costume and would be performing in a play. It was hard to feel like I was myself in such a suit – in such an extravagant world. I felt awkward. I was worried I would blow it, that Julia would conclude that I was not the one for her.**

 **But, the moment I saw Julia, in her beautiful and elegant blue gown, it felt right. We danced, and my excitement seemed matched by hers, as she talked enthusiastically about X-rays and dinosaur hunters. Our concept of speed being affected by the excitement in our hearts, we lapped the other couples on the dance floor with our passion. It feels like she could love me even though I am merely a policeman – even though I am not of her class, even though I don't quite fit in. Dare I dream it?!**

Julia remembered that night. He looked exquisite. He didn't know it, but she had already fallen head over heels in love with him. " _Well, if he didn't fit in, then I didn't either. It felt like we were two kids set loose in a toy store_ ," she thought. She turned to the next entry, recognizing right away that it was from the time she had remembered earlier – a time when she was with Darcy, not with William. Whatever the significance of his haunting words, they were spawned from her own lips.

 **Miss Moffat's case:**

" **The clothes don't fit the boy." Just an observation of Julia's. The world as seen through her eyes. Of course, she would notice even though I could not. She, from her upper-crest of society, her class of wealth and power, she would be able to see that Pip did not belong in that world – her world. And so it is with me as well. I really never had a chance – I guess she could always see, that I did not fit. Only someone like Dr. Darcy Garland, a man from her world, could wear the tuxedo next to her – stand with her at the altar, have a little statue in his image with hers, standing tall atop the cake. I guess the clothes never did fit … me. I'll never be her husband, it's true. She won't ever love me, probably never did. Friends, colleagues will have to do. Those seem to be the only clothes that fit … me.**

She sighed. Julia re-read the entries, letting the realizations sink deeper in. She had to admit, that it was _**he**_ who was expected to move _**up**_ into _**her**_ world rather than her moving down into his. But isn't that a good thing for him – to move up the socioeconomic ladder. "I guess I always assumed that he would want to do so, that if anything, my coming from wealth would be a plus on my side when considering marrying me," she thought. She sighed. She really needed to think about this.

William had not gotten one wink of sleep. He lay on the couch, his face protected and buried in its back, wanting to feel nestled and cocooned, safe and hidden away. Images conjured up in his mind, some of them tempting tears, others setting his gut afire with anger – all resulting from feeling unseen and unknown, alone and misjudged.

Julia slid in behind him. He feigned sleep. She melded her body to his, spooning him, and wrapped an arm around his waist, her hand settling on his bare chest directly above his heart. Her warmth, familiarity, fit so well with him. He started to feel stirrings. He reminded himself about his anger, his hurt. "Julia, this is silly," he said, "I'm sleeping out here to be separated from you. If we are going to sleep together, we should go to the bed. This couch is too small – and your pregnant, if you fall out, even though it is not far to fall, it could hurt the baby."

She ignored his logic. Searching in the dark to find part of his pillow to rest her head upon, she took a deep breath. Her voice spilled out into the dark silence, "From the moment you married me, you became a rich man. I did not become a working-class woman. And so, it has been _**you**_ that has had to change, much more than me in this regard, it's true." She paused, took a breath, "And I see that it has been more difficult for you than I had thought – hence the image of you not fitting in the clothes." She waited, trying to determine his reaction. He had not moved, his breathing stayed shallow, nearly undetectable. A sigh escaped her body, it revealed her pain. She continued, disclosing her emotions now more than her thoughts, "It makes me sad to think …that you think… I judge you as somehow misfit, or unfit, William – for I wholeheartedly do not see you as so."

"But I am," he said, voice muffled against the back of the sofa. He rolled over onto his back and placed his arm under her, stroking her hair as she laid her head upon his chest. He tried to explain, "Julia, deep inside of me, formed before I had any choice in the matter, I learned that good, strong people – such as I am supposed to be, care for themselves. Are not dependent on others to do things for them that they can do for themselves. Good people carry their own load, and if they are really good, they help others. There is pride in self-sufficiency and generosity. Hoarding, whether it be of food or wealth, is cause for shame. I feel shame, Julia, when a servant takes care of me. I'm pretty sure _**you**_ don't. I see myself as being spoiled and arrogant, believing that my behavior indicates that I feel I am superior, and thus should be serviced by others. It does not sit well with me."

She felt him lift his head, turning to look at her. Julia took a deep breath, "I see now William," she said, "I didn't before, but I do now." They were quiet for a moment. Half joking and half serious, Julia suggested, "We could just give away the wealth – to Ruby, and some charities, and live off of our salaries and pensions." She lifted herself up on her elbow and turned to catch his face in the moonlit room.

With a smirk on his face he replied, "Now _**that**_ would be ludicrous." They both felt relief, in that he was agreeing that their wealth was something he wanted to keep, but, his use of the same word she had used earlier when she had disparaged his efforts to provide for his family, said it was due to his fostering of his 'male pride' – his use of _**her**_ word, 'ludicrous,' now evoked a pang of guilt in Julia's stomach. She knew her words had hurt him.

Julia fought to find her deepest truth, to share it with him, for only her sincere feelings of value for what she had earlier demeaned, coupled with an explanation for why she had done so, would repair the damage she had caused. She slid up to place her lips closer to his ear and whispered, "I have to tell you something." She reached over to place her fingers under his chin, and turned him to face her. Their eyes met, through the curtains of moonlight that flowed in the dark room. "William, I regret nothing more than what I said about the house. I spoke of our building it because I needed something to use for my argument – the argument that we don't always do things my way, and the house has been 100% your way," she explained. Her mouth curled into a sly smile as she admitted, in a self-deprecating way, "And we both know I am quite invested in having a strong argument." He chuckled. She continued, "The problem with my argument was that it held that doing something your way meant that it was _**not**_ my way – in this instance it implied that I did not want to build our house. And, although I never would have thought up such a plan, I have truly loved the idea ever since you first told me about it. Now I know you have no reason to trust me when I say that, but it is true. I am so proud of that house William, and of you for thinking to give it to me – to us. You should have male pride, or human pride, or whatever pride about what you are making there." She thought he looked like he believed her. She thought he looked … stronger.

"And the loan?" he asked.

" _Honesty,_ " she reminded herself. She took a deep breath. "Um, I didn't think we needed the loan… But I meant what I said about the interest rates. Assuming the rates we get from our investments stays the same, then the loan was good for our finances. Even if it ends up costing us some money in the long run, it won't be a significant amount … And at the time, I felt like it was worth the risk that it might cost a little money to have you feel pleased with your gift," she explained. She slid her fingers across his chest and finished, "Truthfully William, I was thrilled with how excited you were to give me this house – to build a house for our family. That excitement included the loan."

"Good," he said.

Julia slid her hand up from his chest, along his neck to his jaw. Her thumb teased his lips. William slipped a hand up her arm and along her neck to pinch and trace her ear. She leaned in to softly kiss his cheek, then she kissed a trail to his lips. His hand pressed firmly into the back of her head and drew her closer to him, building the intensity of their kiss. When they broke from the kiss Julia, somehow drifting away from him, said, "William, I fear your concerns about the size of this couch were well- founded…" as she seemed to slowly drop further away from him, "Help," she said with a giggle.

He pulled her up and onto his body and then rolled her over to confine her between himself and the back of the couch. Chuckling softly, warming her heart, he said, "Always willing to rescue my damsel in distress."

"Yes, you are William … Always," she answered. Her hand glided over his chest, up over his shoulder and then his arm, admiration in her eyes. She whispered, "You are, and always have been, my hero, hmm?" William kissed her deeply, passionately. Once he released her lips he moved to her neck, kissing and nibbling. His hand found her breast, cupping it, squeezing it, circulating the nipple, then lightly pinching it. Julia moaned with delight. Her insides tightened, sparking a tiny spasm which caused her to arch up into him. The skin on her neck, awake and alert, could feel the smile grow on his face. Lust burning between them, Julia reminded him that this was the last night they would be able to make love until after the baby was born. "Perhaps the bed then?" he suggested.

Julia pushed him in an effort to free herself. He submitted, fighting to maintain his balance as he found himself only partially on the couch. She crawled over him and with glee evident in her tone, said, "First one to the bed gets to be on top." With that, she playfully gave him a shove, sending him to the floor as she stood and ran for the bed.

William hopped up quickly and bounded after. He never intended to race. No, his goal was capture, which he did, just before Julia had reached her goal. His arms moved in from both sides, clamped around her waist, and then scooped her up. The momentum of their forward motion, combined with William's plan to turn her away from the bed resulted in a delightful spin. He brought her back to the ground and deliberately backed her up against the wall. He kissed her, enjoying the feel of her supple flesh as he roughly and hurriedly explored her curves. Finding the bottom of her night gown, he lifted it up over her head. She raised her arms, allowing him to remove it, and felt her insides ignite with desire as he tightened the gown around her wrists and used it to hold her arms up against the wall, pinning her there, vulnerable and defenseless. Her knees buckled slightly. "William," her husky voice said. His free hand savored her luscious body.

When he finally freed her arms, she stepped out from between him and the wall and turned and guided him back against it to entrap him. "Now," Julia said, "I also wanted you to know, that as for how you look in a tuxedo, well… yum." She kissed him. She lifted away from his lips and continued making her point as her hand made its way down his chest to his stomach, "You, William Henry Murdoch," she changed her angle and kissed him again, a little deeper this time. Lifting away again, she went on, hand now finding the string to his pajama bottoms, "Are always the most gorgeous man in the room," away once more, she pulled the string. "No matter what you wear," she said, then lifting an eyebrow she teased, "Of course, the less the better." Julia's hand slipped under the fabric and smoothly surrounded him, taking a firm hold and sliding her thumb across the top. William moaned. With her other hand, she pushed his pajama bottoms down over his buttocks, letting gravity carry them down to the floor. Her mouth took his passionately, nearly drowning in the feelings of him in her hand and her tongue in his mouth. She pulled away, breath rushing, and kissed a trail down his neck, chest, stomach, as she kneeled in front of him.

"Julia," he said, sounding vulnerable and desperate. Her lips enclosed him and she pressed her tongue against him to push him into the roof of her mouth as she slid her mouth around him. His moan urged her forward. Rhythmically she took him deeply into her mouth over and over again. "Julia," he pleaded. She had no intention of answering his calls. William's body twitched, thrust, as he was losing control. He so wanted their last time to be more together. In his mind the image of driving deeper and deeper inside of her, his hands holding her tightly, pinning her down, locking her in place as he surged inside of her, spurred him to regain control. He bent his knees, slid down the wall to squat in front of her. His eyes met hers. "I want you," he said.

"Then you shall have me," she said, a playful smile blooming on her face.

He knew what was coming this time. He had already started to stand up before she called out the rule to her game…

"First one to the bed gets to be on top," Julia exclaimed as they both bolted for the bed. Of course William won, and, truth be told they both were glad for it.

Julia lay on top of William. "It seems you won, detective," she said.

He nodded, "Yes it does, doctor," he replied.

"Well, before I give you your prize, please let me finish my thoughts on you and tuxedos," she requested.

"Gladly," he answered.

"William Murdoch, in a tuxedo, you are stunning – somehow the lighting at a big ceremony sets your eyes into a sparkle, and you just look … magnificent." She kissed him again. "But, what amazes me most about you," she said after pulling back and taking a breath, "Is you don't seem to know how handsome you are." Julia rolled off of him and wiggled and squirmed in an effort to tuck herself under him. He helped, rolling on top of her as she seductively said, "And, as for the little bride and groom statues, I'll have you know that you, and only you, are the man I want atop my cake."

Her words drove him wild with need. Control breached, it was now William who kissed her, wildly, deeply. His hand hurriedly found her folds. He moaned with desire upon touching her drenched, slick opening. He wanted inside. Her call, "Please William," drove him over the edge. He would take what he wanted. He lined up between her thighs. He pushed forward, upward, strongly opening her warm, slippery flesh, forcing it to yield around him. "Oh my god," she cried. He thrust, driving her to moan once more. And then again, this time deeper inside of her. His pumping rhythm was joined by hers. He felt her nails scrape his back. "Deeper," she said, close to his ear, weak and eager. He bore in with all his might. "Yes, yes," she urged.

Feeling merely a hair's breadth away, William demandingly grabbed her from under her shoulders, pulling them down to him, closer to him, as he powered up further into her. " _Oh yes_ , he thought, " _Right there_." He gushed inside of her, his strokes stretching as he heard her voice tremble in his ear, "Mmm." Her insides rippled around him, squeezing him into emptiness, finally holding him in a warm, cozy hug as he lay collapsed inside of her, only pounding hearts and heaving breaths providing the backbeat.

Satiated and exhausted, healed and bonded, they recovered. Julia whispered, "I'm really, really going to miss this."

He exhaled, flooding her ear and neck with a warm rumble and said, "Yes." William rolled off of her, sliding out of her as he did so. She turned on her side, pushed her back into him. They lay side by side, cuddling together, sharing his pillow. He slipped his arm around her waist and tenderly reached down to cover her belly above her womb with his hand, then stroking and caressing his wife and his unborn child. His voice flooded into her ear, her brain, her soul, "I'm so happy Julia," he said.

Her heart was absolutely on fire with joy. She answered, "As am I, William. As am I."

Morning came too soon. William awoke feeling lustful, as was not uncommon. He reminded himself, before he lightly kissed his wife to warmly rouse her, that they would _not_ make love. He felt challenged to control his urge as she rolled onto her back under his arm and tucked under him, feeling her breath blow hot across the skin of his neck and shoulder. She smelled good. " _Increase the distance_ ," he instructed himself. He propped an elbow into the mattress and laid his chin in his hand. "Good morning Mrs. Murdoch," he said.

Finding his eyes, melting inside once she did so in response to their warm, chocolaty touch, she reached up and played with his ear. He gave her a quick kiss and then got out of bed. For a brief moment she found herself surprised that he moved away, but then she remembered. " _Oh_ ," she thought, " _That's right… This is going to be harder than I thought._ " She urged herself to hop out of bed as well.

They took their time eating breakfast, finding that they were dressed and ready quite a bit earlier than usual. William joked, "Well, one advantage to abstaining is going to be that I won't have to withstand the Inspector's teasing when I'm late." He wrinkled his face to show his admission and chuckled.

Julia laughed, finding herself warmed to know the Inspector knew the cause of William's tardiness. Changing the subject, she brought up the topic that had caused such trouble – servants. "William, I was thinking, well more wondering, how did you feel about Mrs. Kitchen doing your laundry, and cooking and such?"

The question seemed to send him into deep reflection. He knew immediately that he did _not_ feel ashamed as he had claimed he would when a servant did these same things. He met her eyes, excitement bubbling to the surface, his face graced by a smile. "What a magnificent question Julia!" he exclaimed. "Not ashamed," he continued. He looked away, contemplating, searching. When he looked back she could tell he had an answer. "Grateful," he said.

Julia leaned towards him, "That's how I feel when a servant takes care of me as well, William," she explained. She began to ask, "Do you think …"

William put his fork down and, placing his elbow on the table to rest his chin in his hand, he said, his eyes dancing and sparkling with delight, "Yes, Julia. Yes. You truly are amazing. I see now. I'm not so worried… Grateful, of course." He picked his fork back up and took a bite of his French toast. Having set their thoughts back to their earlier disagreement, William decided to breech the specifics of what had started it. "And the maid?" he asked.

Julia exhaled strongly, driving some of the tension out of her body. "Perhaps Eloise …" she paused, checking to see if he recognized who Eloise was (Eloise was the maid Julia had when she was separated from Darcy and before she and William married and moved into the hotel suite) – he did, "… She has her own family; she would not want to live with us. Perhaps she would be willing to cook breakfast and dinner for us and clean in between. She could be free many afternoons, and we would have to pay her very well…" she eagerly suggested.

"Let's ask her," William replied. He thought for a moment and said, "I think we should we build the extra quarters anyway…" He looked to her, wondering if she agreed.

"Yes," she answered. She shrugged, "It could always be a guest suite too?"

"Yes, good," he said, "Good."

Standing to clear the table, William worked to thwart a smile as he said, "Oh, and I like the new frame." Julia couldn't believe it – he had noticed. He held her eyes, reveling in her look, caught, mouth open and eyes wide – " _Absolutely beautiful,_ " he thought. He stepped in close and kissed her. Yes, life was good.


	11. Meant to Be

Meant to Be

It must have been a Saturday, for the couple was in no rush. Having been abstaining from lovemaking now for six weeks, as per Dr. Tash's orders, they had each gradually come to more easily curb their sexual urges. However, each of them was still quite … romantically active, in their dreams. As a matter of fact, Julia had risen that morning, after having had a lovely, highly charged, dream of making love with William, who, in reality, still slumbered in their bed next to her. As she walked to the bathroom, she removed her nightgown, savoring the feel of the fresh air on her bare skin, and prepared for the day.

As William drifted awake, her humming in the bathroom seemed to flow over him like waves gently lapping at the shore. The sound made him happy. He rolled over onto his other side and tucked her pillow under his head to join with his, thus lifting his field of vision higher, enabling him to see across their hotel bedroom. It was a breezy, sunny day in the middle of October, and the smell of fall was in the air. He would enjoy sleeping-in.

Still humming, Julia walked over to her vanity, pausing to inspect her own naked body in the mirror. She didn't notice that her husband watched on from his vantage point in their bed. Her humming stopped as her inner dialogue began, " _Well, little one, you sure are getting quite big,"_ she thought, as she turned sideways and placed her hand over her six-month old fetus. A sigh escaped announcing her concern, as her mind considered her image; she was, " _far from attractive_ ," she thought. Even her breasts seemed to be losing their beauty, becoming so swollen … but the texture and color weren't right – too hard, and made ugly with blatant blue veins catching the eye, and the nipples were enlarged and darker. The whole picture made her cringe with distaste. She slipped into a pair of her "humungous" bloomers and sat down to brush out her hair. " _Perhaps it is for the best that Isaac advised us to refrain from making love_ ," she figured … for she wasn't sure she would have been able to bear the pain of seeing, in William's eyes, his aversive reaction to her body in this state.

Propped up on the pillows, the sight of his lover, his wife, his soul-mate, naked – and pregnant with HIS child – had stirred William, touched him, deeply and profoundly. He remembered no other time in his life that his heart soared so pleasantly – warmed, and thus made light, with joy, and love, and a sense of gratitude. She was so exquisitely beautiful. He was not sure he would ever be able to take his eyes off of her. As Julia sat and began to brush her hair, he said a prayer in his head, thanking the Lord for his – for their – good fortune.

After his prayer, admiring the way the early-morning light tinted her reddish-golden curls, he thought, " _She is so generous, giving so much of herself to have my child…_ " Now, William knew rationally, that Julia was not _**only**_ going through with this pregnancy for him, she clearly wanted their child too, but _**his biological inability**_ to do what she was doing rendered him eternally grateful to her, in a way that he would never be able to express. He couldn't possibly love her more… He was glad he had thought to buy her flowers yesterday, and she had wanted chocolate cake earlier in the day, he remembered affectionately, prompting him to run to the bakery in the middle of the workday to bring her the scrumptious treat in the morgue. He sighed as he thought, " _I would do anything to make her happy, to make her more comfortable... anything._ "

William sat up in their bed, drawing the attention of his wife to his reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met and Julia felt a familiar jolt of tightening in her womb as she thought, " _My God, he is gorgeous_." She had found that her libido was even stronger now that she was pregnant, figuring that somehow the stretching of her muscles and the increase in her blood flow intensified the sensations. Her dream earlier, as was commonly the case these days, had been quite magnificent. She had often wondered if such experiences were dangerous, possibly triggering a pre-mature arrival of the baby, but she had decided not to worry about it, since she seemed to have no control over such dreams anyway.

"Come here," William said, his voice scratchy and dry.

Oh, how her womb flipped over with excitement in response. " _This is not a good idea_ ," she thought. She swallowed, attempting to push away her lustful urges and hoping to be able to speak without sounding aroused. She responded, "William, uh, perhaps it is best if I don't…" Still looking in the mirror, she saw his disappointment and a pang of regret ran through her. She offered an explanation, "It's just that you look so … beautiful William, and I …"

"Julia, come here and let me tell my wife how much I love her, and wish my child a good morning," he argued. (He was _**not**_ feeling aroused, but the emotions he was feeling were incredibly strong – and all he knew was he wanted her closer and he wanted to make her feel good). "It will be alright, I um … I am completely aware of what we are _**not**_ to do," he added, thus convincing her. She placed the brush down and stood…

"Take those off, hmm?" he requested, his eyes down on her bloomers. (He wanted to feel their baby, maybe even listen to its heartbeat, and he didn't want the clumsy bloomers in the way. Besides, he loved the feel of her silky skin as it slid over his).

She gave him a scolding look, for she was feeling much too … sexual, and she mistakenly thought he was too.

Fortunately, her teasing had worked to help him see that she was fighting against her desire to make love, and that she didn't know he wasn't. Yet, every instinct he had told him that if he told her he was _**not**_ aroused, it would hurt her feelings. He sighed as he tried to find a way to explain. "Julia, come over here and lay with me … We'll just cuddle together for a while. It will be fine," he encouraged.

She bargained, demanding he take off his pajama top if she were to remove her bloomers – explaining that she wanted to feel his skin on hers, and then they each removed said garments and she tucked in next to him under the sheets.

The cozy feeling was exquisite as they lie together appreciating the experience of being close, the softness of skin, the smells, the warmth, the sound of breath and voice in one's ear – so intimate, so special. As they spooned together, William placed his hand on her belly. She guided him to the right place, and with her hand over his, they waited, anticipating the confirmation, the touch, the thrill. Bump, it came against his hand from within – maybe a foot kicking, maybe an elbow. The resulting smiles could not be any bigger. A surge of heat, total bliss, flooded through each of them. He kissed her ear, her neck. Julia pressed his hand harder into her belly as she rolled onto her back and their eyes met once again. Experience had taught her that the baby would often shift positions after she moved, and she was hoping he would be able to feel it. Her eyes held his, somehow telling him to focus. She was right, the baby hurled and kicked and rolled. As she watched his eyes dilate and sparkle, she gave into the urge to laugh – but it was a laugh of pure joy and delight. She loved him so.

Satisfied, William propped himself up on an elbow and brought his hand up to play with her curls. "I hope our child gets your hair …" he said.

"Oh William, and your eyes. I so hope the baby has your beautiful, warm, chocolate eyes!" Julia declared, looking into his eyes as she said it.

Letting go of a lock in order to stroke her cheek with his thumb, William replied, "Julia, I find your eyes to be quite beautiful … They are very, well … magnetic. And they have this enticing dark ring around the outer edge, and they are so big… Mmm, very lovely."

Julia reached up to touch, to caress, his shoulder as she said, "I have always thought my eyes looked a bit like Susana's… You must have gotten your mother's eyes I guess – As Harry's are blue too, hmm?" William nodded. Talk of his family seemed to always sadden him so. Julia sensed the dampening of his mood right away. She changed the subject, "William, according to Mendelian genetics, which, if I remember correctly you read about one summer at the beach …" She giggled at the thought of anyone else in the world choosing such a book for their leisurely reading. She wasn't sure he understood why she found it funny, or surprising. She decided to push on without explaining, "Well, didn't Mendel say that brown eyes are dominant, and since we know Harry had blue eyes … well wouldn't you have the recessive gene as well as the dominant one. I mean, isn't there a 50/50 chance that our child will have brown eyes and a 50/50 chance it will have blue ones?"

"Mm-hmm," he replied, adding, "If you made a pi square with our genes, your two recessive ones and, for me one dominant and one recessive, well, the result would be 50/50, yes." Her distraction having worked, and now gotten him excited about considering other factors as well, he reasoned aloud, "It is probably similar with the hair color because Harry was blond, before the grey. But I think, unfortunately, there is less chance for our baby to have such beautiful curls…" he continued as he twirled and twisted one of her curls, "I believe they are recessive, and no one in my family had curly hair, so …" When his eyes reconnected with Julia's, he realized he did not have her full attention. She seemed to be struggling with a decision. "What is it Julia?" he asked.

She squirmed under him as she tried to decide whether to bring up the subject of gender. She thought it might be uncomfortable. Her eyes glanced down at her bulging belly and then back to his. She sighed, she was going to share her thoughts, "I don't really want to admit it, but … uh, I hope the baby is a boy." She took a deep breath and held his eye – she wanted to see his reaction.

William instinctively tried to close up, for he did prefer a boy, and yet he felt uneasy about disclosing so. He knew it was unreasonable – that he would love a girl with all of his heart, surely as much as he would a boy. "Oh," he replied quickly. "Why?" he asked as he drew back a little, increasing the distance between them.

Wanting to feel on even ground with him, Julia slid out from under him and rolled on her side to prop herself up on an elbow as well. She believed she had seen it – his preference, and she did not want to make him feel bad about it. Her hand glided to his chest, then up to reach behind his neck so she could scratch her nails softly across the back of his scalp, then tenderly trace the outline of his ear. "I think, William, it is what you want… And I want, more than anything in the world, to give you what you want," she offered.

"Julia, I would love a little girl. I would love her with everything I have," he said.

Reassuringly she answered, "I know William. I know you would, and I am convinced that you will be completely happy if our baby is a girl, but, well … didn't the papers report that you, "saw your future _**son**_ " back at the turn of the century, when you took a trip in the time machine?" Her thumb found his lips and traced them.

William dropped his eyes and watched as his hand slid along her naked body, from her ribcage, down the curve into her waist, and then back up the steep slope of her hip. As she lay in this position on her side, he could feel her hip bone. Once again, he placed his hand over the fetus inside of her. Sincerity was in his voice when he said, "It doesn't make any sense …" wrinkling one side of his mouth, and then lifting his eyes back to meet hers as he continued, "Sometimes, well …"

She thought he looked so … vulnerable, as he pushed himself to explain. It was endearing.

"Sometimes I think this was all," he paused, taking a quick glance at her, seeming concerned, before he finished, "meant to be." Suddenly needing to sound rational, he hurried to add, "Now I know that it was Dr. Roberts whispering in my ear when I was deceived into thinking I saw the future… And _**he**_ probably was the one who chose to " _ **make**_ " my imaginary child into a boy, but, well, there was another time besides that one, and it was a boy then too."

"Another time?" she asked.

"Mm." he answered, nodding his head while his big, beautiful eyes stayed glued to hers, wide and open, and so hopeful, hopeful that she would understand. "It was just a fantasy I had … but it felt so magical and forceful, so significant, at the time…"

"When?" she interrupted.

He shifted, trying to feel more comfortable, and said, "At the conclusion of the case with the fake dinosaur bone – when you and I were talking in my office and I told you of my lifelong dream of excavating fossils in the Alberta badlands, and how it had been crushed by our discoveries of the corruption of those in the field."

"Oh yes," Julia replied, "I do remember that." The baby shifted again, drawing its parents' attention, and provoking them to share a smile. Their hearts were full of awe. Then Julia's stomach growled – loudly. She giggled and said, "I am starving. I guess there is no denying it."

He sat up and offered her a hand. "Shall we eat then, doctor?" he suggested.

"That would be lovely, detective," she responded, suggesting, "I will order us some breakfast while you clean up?"

"Good," he answered as they rose from the bed, and then he added, "Perhaps afterwards I can read to you about these matters from my journal. We haven't done that for a long time…"

"Oh William, that would be delightful," she replied excitedly, stepping in close to him and cupping his cheek with her hand. She kissed his lips and then quickly moved down to kiss his neck. It was the morning stubble on his face that did it – shattered her self-control. The feeling of it scratching against her cheek sparked memories of the hundreds and hundreds of mornings when, along with that very same sensation, she had heard his rapid, demanding, hot breath in her ear, and felt his weight pinning her to the mattress, as she would writhe and erupt underneath him from his touch so very deep inside her. Oh, how she wanted to hear him moan in her ear.

He heard her breath surge out of her nostrils, warming his skin, felt her grow heavier against his chest and drop, betraying what was happening inside of her swimming head and her somersaulting womb. "Julia," he said. He cleared his throat and reminded, "Weren't you going to order us some breakfast?" A moment later, he heard her swallow and then exhale a deep, strained breath, and he waited … for her to pull away.

Turning her head away from the temptation of his neck, she replied, her voice breathy with lust, sounding dazed, "Yes…" she said, and then stepped back, her eyes stuck on his bare, and enticing, chest. She sighed and pushed back another step, taking a quick peek at him and then forcing herself to ask, with her eyes now on the door, "Do you want pancakes or eggs?"

"Eggs and bacon sounds great. Thanks," he answered nonchalantly as he turned and headed for the bathroom.

Over breakfast they talked of names for the baby. It was a new topic – one they had subconsciously avoided in the past, probably because it seemed to require an emotional commitment – to the belief that the child would survive, and in Julia's case, that was much less certain than for the average mother-to-be. A while back, they had decided to live as if both the baby and Julia would come out of this fine, but the fact that they breached the subject of names this morning signified a deeper acceptance of that belief. Not directly returning to the conversation they had had in bed about the baby being a boy or a girl, Julia brought up boy's names first, suggesting the name, 'William Jr.' Her heart surged with glee as William placed his fork to the side of his plate and leaned forward towards her, with his eyes twinkling and bright, and asked, "Do you think you could stand it, living with two Williams?"

She replied, "I don't think life could be more perfect."

William went back for a bite of his eggs, thinking about any possibilities they might have overlooked, " _Of course,_ " he thought, " _Julia's father…"_ He took a sip of tea and then asked, "Perhaps we should consider 'Lionel' if we have a son?"

She smiled and took his hand. "You are very sweet William, but I do believe we have already decided," she said.

"Then William Jr. it is," he declared. "And if the baby is a girl … Would you like Julia Jr.?" he asked.

She scowled at him a little. "Now William, I know we have a modern marriage, and I am all for breaking traditions, but that just doesn't seem like a trend I want to start," she explained.

He nodded and suggested her mother's name.

"Perhaps," she answered. Pondering, she paused, and then suggested, "William, how about 'Susana?' It is a lovely name, and …"

So quickly his eyes darted away and he dropped his chin, at first, surprising her, for she had expected him to like the proposed name, but then she realized he had become choked-up. Julia sighed and then lifted a foot under the table to find his calf and rub it, calling him to share with her. When he lifted his eyes she felt her breath catch. She was always taken with the look of him when his eyes filled with tears, becoming so flooded, his long, thick lashes holding back the flow against gravity. She knew when he blinked the torrents would come. Deep in her marrow she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him – to kiss his tears and his sadness away, and yet, she waited for him, aspiring to give him control.

The blink came, and he rushed to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand. Knowing he didn't need to explain, that Julia already knew, he told her, "She will never see her niece, or her nephew … She will never know of our love for each other, of our child. She was so saddened by my grief and pain at the news of her impending dying, and I… I just wish she could have known how happy I became…" He rubbed a thumb under his eye to whisk away another tear adding, "I think it would have made her happy … to know."

Yes," Julia replied, her voice low and contemplative, "Yes, I'm sure it would have." Julia's thoughts turned to the similar heartache he must feel about his mother, who would also never know about his life, would never take joy in the intense, wonderful things that had happened to him, would never be able to feel the power of comforting him through the suffering of pain and loss … Then _**her own mother's**_ voice, her presence, appeared in Julia's mind, prompting her to tear-up as well. "It somehow hurts even more when you can't share the good things that happen, even worse than being without them during the bad, hmm?" she asked, connecting with him. He nodded. He took a big breath, lifting his chest, and then exhaled, trying to send away the pain.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Julia changed the subject, "So, whether the baby is a boy or a girl, we have a name – and we are prepared for the second child as well … I mean, at least if the second child is a different gender than the first..."

William rested his chin in his hand, he was listening. "If not …" he started to say…

"Well, if we have two boys, then we could name the second boy Lionel," she concluded.

A mischievous smile curled onto William's face, immediately warming her heart. "And if we have two girls or a boy and a girl, well then I propose we name _**the dog**_ Lionel," William declared, moving to duck from her thrown napkin.

"Always with the dog William!" she squeaked. "I think, that if we have two girls, it would be much more apropos to name the dog 'William Jr.," she hurried to say before falling into laughter at his feigned insulted look.

After breakfast, William suggested that, since it was such a beautiful day, they go for a walk in the park. Julia's sigh indicated her worry about the exercise being overly demanding on her pregnant body, so William suggested that they take a cab and go to the same spot where they first kissed. They could bring a blanket, and he would give her a foot massage and read to her from his journal. Finding his plans irresistible, she agreed. On their way out, the detective told the doorman where they would be in case they were needed.

Lying on the picnic blanket together, Julia in her lusciously pampered stocking feet, William propped himself up on an elbow and found the page. He read:

 **I have never told anyone before, but it is no wonder that I told her. She understands me, seems to know me somehow, to care about me… and can be trusted not to think poorly of me. If I had to say, I believe she thought my childhood dream of being a fossil hunter was anything but boring or fanciful. Even with me in a state of disillusionment with the professionals in the field of paleontology, she was nothing but encouraging.**

 **Perhaps that is why it happened… So far, such premonitions have only occurred in my dreams, or have been hinted at in a medium's words or a circus fortuneteller's cards – I have not allowed myself such conscious fantasies, but it was** _ **her**_ **in my vision – and we had a son! The feeling was uncanny, a sensation beyond me just showing myself what I truly wanted. It went past my heart, seemed to delve deeply into my soul. It was as if the wind whispered its secret to me – it was meant to be.**

The magic and awe of what he had just read triggered in him a need to be more rational, not to allow himself to be swayed by the illogical. He closed the journal and added, "Of course, this was before you told me that your abortion had left you sterile, so it would not be quite as far-fetched for me to think we would have children." He took one of her curls in his fingers and then touched her face, turning her, persuading her to look into his eyes. "At the time, I remember being much more compelled by my having seen _**you**_ as my wife, the mother of my child, than I was with having seen that I had a child. It felt like a dream come true," he said. He continued, slightly shaking his head with disbelief, "A dream, or a wish, and yet somehow much more than that, that had stirred within me from the very first time we met." He wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, showing her that he knew it was not reasonable, and thus was subject to doubt.

She slid over closer to him, wanting to be under him. She spoke softly, tempting him to lean down closer to her as she said, "You really have quite a way with words William. It is almost poetic. Don't minimize the power of your words to convey the mystery and enchantment of the experience." She wished he would kiss her, finding herself becoming aroused again. She reached up and traced his lips, and her womb flipped over with excitement when she saw him look around, for she knew he was checking to see if anyone would see them kiss. Oh, and then he kissed her – a slow, warm kiss. He broke off the kiss and reached under her to pull out his journal.

Whispering, magnifying the intimacy, he said, "But, as you know, by the time I climbed into Professor Harm's time machine, I knew you were the one for me, the only one, and I knew that I had lost you forever. I even knew that if by some miracle, I would ever be able to get you back, that we would not have children unless we adopted, and yet, under the influence of electric shocks inducing a seizure, and Dr. Roberts whispering whatever came to _**his**_ mind in my ear, what I came away with was that in my future, there was you, and we had a son… Looking at it now, it seems impossible – just wild coincidence, and yet it doesn't feel that way. It feels like it was real, that what we have today was foretold." William leafed through the pages, looking for what he had written at the time…

From behind them, Julia heard someone park a bicycle, and then she saw the constable's large figure come into view. "William," she said as she pushed against his shoulder, "Constable Jackson…"

William rolled over to face the constable and sat up. "Constable Jackson, what have you?" he asked.

They headed to the crime scene together. Julia went back to the morgue with the ambulance after giving William her preliminary thoughts. She would not need to perform the post-mortem until Monday. William had to do some investigating and would meet her back at the hotel later.

Julia entered the suite exhausted, " _particularly for a Saturday_ ," she thought. As she put away the picnic blanket, her mind fondly replayed memories of the way William had watched out for her at the crime scene, helping her up after she had squatted next to the body, and helping her into the ambulance, carrying her medical bag and handing it up to her once she had taken a seat. He did not behave this way even as recently as last month. Of course, she was much more able then. Now she found so many things difficult, resulting in her feeling vulnerable, helpless, and at times unreasonably worried that he would leave her, or even worse, as she had always feared, he would die. She fought so hard not to let such feeling s run away with her. Even when they were surging, she tried to fake her sense of security. She worried about over-burdening William – she knew it was her imagination, but she worried she would scare him away. She went into the bedroom to put away William's journal.

In his drawer, never having noticed it before, she saw a little brown book – but what particularly caught her attention was the bullet stuck in the book. Instantly, she recognized the book as hers – _An Explanation of the Poetry of Lord George Gordon Byron and Percy Blythe Shelle_ y. Her mind bolted off in multiple directions: " _Why did_ _ **he**_ _have her book? … How did the book get shot – Was he nearly killed!? ... When did I have this book last? …"_ Marveling at the wedging of the bullet in the top portion of the book, and opening it, with her eyes following the movement of the bullet riding along with the cover, she found herself drawn to the prose marked by the point of the bullet, the words it did not quite pass through. It felt as if the bullet had been guided by fate's hand, and thus the words carried a message from destiny.

She read the poem out loud to the empty room:

 **Love's Philosophy**

 **The fountains mingle with the river,  
And the rivers with the ocean;  
The winds of heaven mix forever  
With a sweet emotion;  
Nothing in the world is single;  
All things by a law divine  
In another's being mingle-  
Why not I with thine?**

 **See, the mountains kiss high heaven,  
And the waves clasp one another;  
No sister flower could be forgiven  
If it disdained its brother;  
And the sunlight clasps the earth,  
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;-  
What are all these kissings worth,  
If thou kiss not me? **

Emotions swelled within her. The poem captured a pining, a suffering, and a wishing that seemed so familiar. She read it again. Putting the tiny book down on her vanity, she could hardly wait to ask William about it.

She looked around their suite, entertaining thoughts of how happy they have been here. In only a few weeks, she would be stopping work at the morgue – and they would be packing up. Their beautiful house, complete with all of William's innovative and novel ideas, would be waiting for them. Adding on another servant's apartment had slowed up the progress a little bit. Shaking her head at the memory of the abundant arguments she and William had had about servants, she hoped that the last one was the final one. It had been a doozy, but he had remembered something she had said years ago that helped them get to the heart of the matter. The sound of his voice as he first repeated her words played in her head, " _It seems the clothes still don't fit the boy._ " She sighed and then counted her lucky stars to have him in her life, as her husband, and soon to be, the father of her child.

Deciding to take a shower, she undressed, once again finding her eyes drawn to her reflection, and once again, feeling uneasy about what she saw in the mirror. It raised such contradiction within her – she loved the large, round bulge in the front of her – the miracle it represented… Julia took a moment to thank science for coming up with ways to make their child possible. But, being pregnant rendered her body so unsexy, so unappealing … And the timing of such a state was awful, for she never felt it was more essential than now to keep William interested. Not to mention her own remarkable state of constant … readiness.

Not surprisingly, she found herself becoming intolerably aroused in the shower, spurred on by her brain's interminable flow of amorous memories, one after the other. At first, it was the memory of feeling William's unshaven cheek against hers this morning, prompting her to grow week in the knees all over again, right now in the shower. Then she remembered their honeymoon in New York, and his eternal teasing of her, seeming to cast a spell over her as they played with their reflection in the window. She chuckled to herself remembering how disappointed William had been that they did not get the beautiful view he had been promised. She heard it, William's intoxicating voice in her head, " _This is the most magnificent view I have ever seen. Look at how beautiful you are Julia."_ And then she remembered the agony of desire he put her through, the sight of his hands on her as she watched in the window reflection, and the feel of him pressed solidly against her, rigid and honed-in on what he wanted, what he would take. Her nostrils flared, her hot breath mingling with the steam in the shower, announcing her urgency, oh, and how she melted so with the memory, she wondered if she might not be washed and swirled away down in the drain. Weakened, buckling, she fell forward into the cold wall of the shower, stimulating another memory of having him lose control, roughly and abruptly turning her around and then pounding into her with all his might, desperate and demanding. She was so dizzy, swimming with lust. " _This is crazy_ ," she thought as she fought to pull herself back to reality.

As she dried off, her mind still pestered her with yearning. She remembered William standing before her, wearing just his tie – Suddenly her body reacted to the memory, surging into an arch as her womb tightened and flipped with a deep ache for him. "Oh," she said aloud as the air burst out of her and she remembered the feeling of having him back her up into the wall, and lift her up, and whisper such breathtaking words in her ear, about how he had loved her since the first moment he had seen her, how he had known since then that she was the one for him, right before he breached her, filled her, sending her over the edge.

She heard his key in the door and she worked to shake-off the spinning, weak, desperate feelings within her. "I'm just getting out of the shower William," she called out, impressing herself with her ability to sound in control of her senses.

"Good," she heard him reply. He had bought her a few things, some more roses, pink this time, intending to convince her he would be perfectly happy with a girl, and one of her favorite treats she hadn't had for a while – peanut brittle. He also had a bottle of wine. He took a moment to put the flowers in a vase, and lay the other gifts out on the side-table by the couch, before he would join her in the bedroom.

She had hurried to throw on a dress, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about having William see her naked and with her figure so unshapely. "How did it go?" she asked with her voice loud to reach the other room, as she stepped into her big, unsightly bloomers and then took a seat at the vanity to brush out her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he walked to the bedroom door, stopping and leaning against the door frame and then talking her through the various clues he had learned about the murder case.

Once he had finished, he paused and watched the sight of her brushing her hair. He let it bloom and build in his heart, only needing to wait to feel it grow warm inside his chest– his love for her.

"The park was lovely earlier William. What a wonderful idea," she declared as she placed the brush down and began to braid her hair. She saw it, out on her periphery, he shifted his balance, started to approach her. Her body reacted, heat and a hypnotic humming along with the floating waves. She lectured herself, " _Really now Julia, get a hold of yourself._ " She remembered the one, tender kiss they had shared as they lay on the blanket … and then the memories of the first thrilling time, in the same place, flooded through her. " _My God_ ," she thought, " _I knew back then that our love would be powerful, but I really had no idea…_ "

"What's this?" he asked as he lifted the book with the bullet in it from her vanity.

"Oh … I found it when I put your journal away. It seems to have quite a story to tell, hmm?" she replied.

"Indeed," he answered. "Perhaps it is also best told with the journal?" he pondered aloud. He went to his dresser and fished out the journal once more. "Shall we?" he invited.

Julia stood and stepped in close to him, fiddling with his tie flirtatiously and suggested, "That sounds lovely detective, but perhaps without the tie."

He lifted an eyebrow scoldingly at her and said, "Doctor, why are you always after my tie?"

Julia's eyes were focused down on her work undoing his tie as she answered, "I must say detective, one of my biggest thrills comes from having my ever-so-buttoned-down husband …" she leaned forward and found his ear and whispered, "lose some of his buttons and come undone."

Her giggle tickled him, lit him up, and he took her in his arms, pulling her close enough that she had to stop her advancement in removing his suit. "I brought you some gifts doctor," he said in her ear, "Come see." He took her by the hand and led her into the living room, helping her to take a seat on the couch, and then placing his journal down on a nearby table. He held her eye as he unbuttoned his vest and then removed it along with his jacket, laying them over the back of a chair. She watched, feeling knots twist and tighten between her legs, as he pulled his tie from around his neck and undid the top two buttons. His eyes drifted to the side-table as he found the end of his sleeve to remove his cuff-link, a gift of hers, "Do you like the flowers?" he asked.

With every ounce of will she had, she forced herself to take her eyes off of him and look at the flowers instead. "They are beautiful, William," she declared. "Pink …"

He sat next to her and explained, "A gesture of welcoming from my heart, for what may be, our little girl." She smiled and then caught sight of the scrumptious treat on the table next to the roses, "Peanut-brittle!" she exclaimed.

"Mm," he answered.

"And wine!" she added excitedly.

"Yes," William answered, offering her a slight bow. "I thought it might be more like our first picnic … Since we got called away earlier."

"How delightful," she said, "Will you be having some?" She watched as he struggled slightly with the question, and then gave her a smile.

"Well, although I can think of no excuse, no scientific experiment to run, no major celebration … I will, in memory of our first kiss," he answered. He got up, returned with the glasses, poured the wine, and then handed her a glass, and they shared a clink. Lifting his journal from the table, he sat next to her and said, "So milady, you were wondering about your book – on poetry I believe."

Looking up at him through her lashes as she took a sip of her wine, trying hard to control her glee and pepper it with her sense of intrigue, she replied, as casually as possible, "Yes – Byron and Shelley, is it not?"

"Yes," he answered with a nod to her. He turned his attention to his journal and worked to find the page. Upon finding it he looked back at her and said, "Perhaps some context is in order…"

"Please," she smiled. She was already truly having a wonderful time.

William turned to better face her, pulling a bent knee up between them and resting an elbow over the back of the couch. "Do you remember citing a passage of Shelley's from the book aloud, um at the time, while you were performing an autopsy? Do you remember who you quoted Shelley to?" he asked, leaning towards her, seeming to pull her in.

Earlier, when she had first found the book, she did not, but now, with the way he had asked the question, it came to her. Her face lit up with recognition, "Yes," she exclaimed, "I do. I cited, "To a Skylark" … to …" Her eyes sparkled as they held his and finished, "To your brother, Jasper." She shifted her position, moving in closer to him and asked, "Did you take it then?"

Scratching his head nervously, he then answered, "No … No, I took it later. I had come back to the morgue … um, I was hoping to talk to you before I left for Vancouver." William sighed and continued, "I had broken things off with Mrs. Jones, and I wanted to renew our relationship…" William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth and paused. "I doubted you would want to though …" he took a deep breath, "I thought you were seeing Reginald Poundset … I saw you had scheduled a meeting with him in Stouffeville … That was where you were – with him. It's why you weren't in the morgue." William reached over and took her chin in his fingers and gave her a brief smile before he pushed on. He dropped his eyes away and said, "I was devastated really." Quickly his eyes lifted and met hers as he admitted, "Jealous… Then I saw the book, and I remembered how jealous I had felt when you and Jasper seemed to hit it off so well. It was eating me up inside. I felt so inadequate. I thought that I might read the book, knowing you loved it so much. Maybe it would help me win you back, or perhaps I just wanted to feel closer to you and it seemed to be the only way I could. I tucked it in my vest pocket, and then I hurried off to the train."

"Was that where it was, in your vest pocket, when it … encountered the bullet?" she rushed to ask. He nodded, and then she knew – knew that he had almost died.

William opened his journal to the page and read:

 **I know I will love her forever, and yet, I do not have her heart, perhaps I never will. Enigmatic, for I have lost my heart to her, and yet, it is she who has saved it. Ironic, that if not for my love for Julia, if not for her book over my heart – stopping the bullet, my heart would beat no more, but still, it is that very love, the impossibleness of it, the loss of it, the void left by its absence that has sapped my life, that causes my heart to wither away. Sometimes I wonder how I could possibly be so wrong…why she doesn't feel it too. I thought she did. Inevitable, somehow destined, I am certain I am meant to be with her, like gravity, it tugs at me, relentlessly, calling me to yield to its power. I must ask her, once more, to take my heart, to hold it, and keep it, for it is hers. As Jasper said, I must, "make it right," or at least do everything in my power to try.**

Still holding the page, he lifted his chin, looking for her thoughts. Her mouth was agape and her eyes wide. He said, "Overly romantic, I know, but it had seemed so prophetic, your book in my pocket – stopping the bullet…"

"Yes, I see," she replied. "It's uncanny isn't it?" she asked. "Quite powerful, almost like a sign," she said, receiving his nod… "William, did you ever notice what poem the bullet stopped at?" she urged.

He cleared his throat and nodded, saying, "Yes. I found it to be quite touching… I haven't read it for some time, but I remember feeling the poem captured the constant motion and fluidity of what I felt was our love, as well as its inevitableness, and also the pain I felt being apart from you."

Julia made an effort to get up off of the couch, but finding it difficult, she asked him to go get the book from off of her vanity. She read it to him. Afterwards, she repeated some poignant lines, "All things by a law divine - In another's being mingle- Why not I with thine?" She closed the little book and excitedly said, "It is as if the poem told you to ask me again, don't you think?"

Sounding skeptical, he said, "Perhaps."

She snuggled in close to him and said, "Well, I'm glad you did."

"As am I," he replied. He wrapped his arm around her and she rested her head on his chest.

A few moments later, she lifted her head with curiosity in her eyes and asked, "William, how did you find me – at the balloon?"

He took a deep breath; he had been hoping to avoid disclosing his undignified actions. Embarrassed, he dropped his chin, looking away from her, and his neck began to turn red as he answered, "I, uh … I had realized that I didn't know anything about Mr. Poundset… And I … I guess I wanted to size up my competition." He risked a glance at her, unbeknownst to him, melting her heart. He went on, "Before I left for the west coast, I asked George to look into his background…"

She gave him a squeeze and teased, "Oh, I see, using your connections as a detective to check up on me, hmm?" She was rewarded with his little wrinkled-up-corner-of-his-mouth expression, admitting to the undeniable. "You know William, your showing up at my hot-air balloon, professing your love for me as such… It was very romantic…" she said, then she kissed him and added, "My God, I love you William Murdoch."

"Are you sure?" he asked playfully, "It's not just my love-trinkets that have won your heart?"

Julia's eyes grew wide with excitement as she declared, "Peanut-brittle. I forgot!" She turned to reach over to the side-table and gathered up the tempting delicacy. She broke off a piece for him and then one for her. "Delicious!" she whispered, as if it was their secret.

As they indulged on the peanut-brittle, William asked Julia if she remembered the case with the deadly peanut paste. "Of course," she replied, "It triggered my interest in food allergies. A woman was living her life as a man – a Victor something or other, and she became a member of the Inspector and George's Masonic Lodge." She crunched off another bite of their treat and said, "Fortunately, neither of us is allergic to peanuts," she added, clearly enjoying his "trinket." A giggle pierced the air between them, coming from Julia, and then it blossomed into outright laughter. Covering her mouth, she explained through the jolly bursts, "You should have seen your face, William. It was terribly funny …"

He raised an eyebrow, warning her not to wallow in the memory of his shock and discomfort; he knew exactly where she was going.

Nearly buckling over with laughter, her hand now attempting to shield their baby from the power of its spasms, she declared, "You really thought I was a man. When I asked you for a light … If you had had a match, you would have let me strike it for my cigarette! Honestly, I will never forget the look on your face when you figured out it was me… You were absolutely confounded…" The contagiousness of her laughter caught him, and William began to chuckle as well, as she finished, "It was priceless." Their eyes teared-up and they struggled to catch their breath. She cupped her hand to his cheek and declared her love for him once more. Then she asked, looking at his journal, "Now, I wager that would be quite an interesting entry..."

To her surprise, William blushed, piquing her curiosity even more. "I don't know Julia…" he started to argue.

"Oh William, I so want to hear it," she begged. She wondered to herself, " _What could possibly embarrass him so much about this?_ "

Needing to clear his throat, he said, "I think it would be best if I read it to you at another time – after the baby is born."

"What could my having the baby possibly have to do with it?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

William swallowed and cleared his throat again, "Well, um … Dr. Tash recommended …"

"William! You were aroused by my dressing as a man?!" she asked incredulously. He couldn't possibly turn a redder color. She had guessed right! Shaking her head from side to side, she insisted, her voice rising into a squeak, "William?!"

He rubbed his forehead, as he often did when he was stressed. "Let's just say that the thought of you in trousers – appearing to all the world as a man – when I knew that under that suit there was a curvy, supple, lusciously beautiful woman … The sneaky secret of it..." he said, pausing to lean close to her and confide, "It drove me wild. I couldn't get the recurring thoughts and images out of mind for months."

Julia leaned back and took a good hard look at him, prompting him to swallow with uneasiness again. "Oh, we will have to remember this in the future," she stated. "Do you think I could fit in your trousers William?" she asked.

He glanced down at her enlarged belly and then back up into her eyes, answering, "Certainly not right now." She pouted. " _She is so beautiful,_ " he thought. "Come here," he requested, shifting to offer her his lap, which she happily climbed into, wrapping her arms around his neck and then peppering his face and neck with soft, playful kisses. He took her in his arms and then lowered them down into a prone position, tucking her safely between himself and the back of the couch, having learned from the time, not so long ago, when she nearly fell off of the couch. She rested her head on the bicep of his arm and reached up to undo a few more of the buttons on his shirt. "Careful," he warned, and she smiled and then stopped. He slid his hand down to her belly and encouraged, "I think all of that laughter was quite enough shaking for our little William Jr. or Susana, hmm?"

"That sounds wise," she granted.

After a time, William remembered, "Julia, I just realized that there was another hot-air balloon, not just after the time your book saved my life, but in my imagining of the future with the Dr. Harm's Time Machine too. My 1912-self demonstrated convection and density to our son – using a miniaturized hot-air balloon. Now, there would have been no way for Dr. Roberts to know the significance of hot-air balloons to me – to us!"

"True," she acknowledged, "But it could be coincidence, could it not?" she countered.

In the end, they agreed there would never be any _**PROOF**_ that their love was meant to be. It would always have to be, "just a feeling," an awesome, magical, wonderful and delightful feeling.


	12. Chapter 12: Doubts

Journal Journeys: Doubts

Dr. Tash had advised that when Julia entered her seventh month of pregnancy, she stop working in the morgue, thus she had been a stay-at-home-mother-to-be for a week. She already missed being at work. Fortunately, there was plenty to do here as they were to move to their new house next week, and there was much packing to do. Admittedly, most of the items to be packed were actually hers – William had brought very little when they moved in here at the Windsor House Hotel. She was also busy buying items for the new house … and she did find that she got so very, very tired. Her back hurt, and her feet too. Most evenings, William tended to her, cared for her, rubbing her feet, massaging her back. " _He is absolutely lovely,_ " she thought, " _or at least he had been, but there had been a shift lately … Was it since she had stopped working, or from before then_?" she pondered. " _When was the last time he had bought flowers, or massaged her sore back or her aching feet?_ " she asked herself. Now conscious of such thoughts, a sadness settled in her heart, for she felt a loss. Disturbed by her feelings, she laid the dress she was packing down over the box and sat. She could not deny it; she was worried.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the vanity mirror, turning to look herself in the eye. "You are being unreasonable," she said to herself. She sighed – she was not convinced. She felt so unattractive … And tonight of all nights, she had to dress-up and go out to an awards dinner with William, for George – the constable had won a prize for his second book. It had been difficult to purchase a dress for the outing, knowing she would only wear the dress once, and it was only made worse by the fact that the best dress she could find looked like she was wearing a tent. As she imagined herself on her husband's arm, with him looking strikingly handsome in his tuxedo and her looking … fat and unshapely, her eyes swelled into tears.

He hadn't touched her for days. He didn't seem to look at her anymore, and certainly not in the same way he used to. She wiped her eyes and pushed herself to pull it together. After a deep breath she went back to packing, but her mind still tormented her. There were no new murder cases, yet he had stayed late the past few nights. " _Working on his files,"_ he had said … and yesterday evening William said he had stopped by the house to talk to the contractor, but she had spoken with the man earlier in the day and he had informed her that they would be finishing up early because the paint would not be available until today. She had struggled with the courage to ask William about it, and he had explained that when he got to the house, the men were gone, but then he had taken a ride on his bike through the park, feeling the exercise would do him good.

She felt herself bordering on panic and worked to pull herself back. " _Take a deep breath_ ," she coached herself. " _William loves you. He is a good man_ ," she reassured herself. " _This constant fear of being abandoned must be hormonal,"_ she figured. Wanting to get her mind off of all of this, she decided to go out for a while. She needed more boxes – and she had a craving for some ice-cream.

Walking down the hall to their suite, too early, having left George's Awards Dinner before he had received his award, William knew George would be disappointed that they had gone before his speech. What he did not know was that part of George's acceptance speech was directed at him, and thus everyone at the dinner would have noticed that the Murdoch's had left early. The couple maintained a stiff distance from each other and Julia's crying was the only sound to break the tortured silence.

William unlocked the door and opened it for Julia to go through first. He closed it behind him and stood with his back to it watching his wife fall apart before his eyes. She seemed to crumble as she placed her hat and bag on the table and finally released the dam of tears she had been holding back. Through the restricted breathing and swollen airways she squeaked out, seeming to be telling only herself, "Oh my God, it hurts so badly." She unbuttoned her coat, struggling with the tighter buttons across her very pregnant belly…

William had removed his hat, held it in his hand and tried again, his voice low, "Julia please … It meant nothing."

His words only served to collapse her more … the sounds of her sobs ripping at his heart. Finding it unbearable, he pleaded, "You are being unreasonable Julia. You are over-reacting." He heard her take a deep breath and he braced for her fury. It never came. Instead she ran as fast as her pregnant legs could take her to their bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

He could hear her, bawling into the pillows on the bed. Terror threatened to take him, pull him down into useless guilt. Any minute now, she would have cried so hard for long enough that she would need to go into the bathroom and throw-up. She needed to stop – she's hurting herself, and possibly the baby. Never did he ever think he would breach a door she had closed between them in anger or hurt, but he did now. He decisively opened the door and walked in. She was face down in the pillows on the bed, still in her elegant gown and didn't notice he had come in. He sat on the bed next to her. She immediately demanded that he get out. "I won't," he said calmly. "Julia, you need to stop crying like this. You are going to make yourself sick. And it can't be good for the baby."

"I am NOT making myself sick – YOU made me sick," she demanded, sitting up and smacking a pillow. But when she looked at him, the anger fled, and all she was left with was the pain and devastation, and she burst into sobs again. He took her in his arms and she protested, wriggling and trying to punch at him to no avail for he was too close for her strikes to have any force. He held her and she cried harder, seeming to give up fighting him. "I'm going to throw up," she warned, and he released her and she rushed to the toilet. He followed, held back her wayward curls for her, as she vomited violently into the echoing water.

Finished, he had hoped she would be done crying, but she sat on the bathroom floor, and fell back into spasms of tears. He sat on the floor behind her, the tails of his tuxedo swept out to the side, his back to the sink cabinet, and he scooped her up and pulled her tightly to him. Weak, she had nothing left to fight him with; she just cried harder. "Julia, please stop. Please," he pleaded. He kissed her hair and she pulled away.

"Leave me alone William," she pushed the order out through her tormented lungs and throat.

"I will not," he stated plainly. "You need to stop crying like this… Julia, think of something else…" he waited, forced himself to take a deep breath, but her wailing kept up. He heard himself say it aloud before he was even conscious of the idea, "Julia, how many bones in the human wrist? Hmm?" he asked.

From in front of his chest, he heard the turmoil calm just a little, her torrents easing as she sniffled and answered, shoving the word past her pain, "Eight," before her body twitched and shook as she laboriously sucked in some more air.

"Good. Good," he replied, "And how about teeth? How many teeth do humans have?"

She took a shaky breath to pull in the air she would need to answer. Her voice squeaked as she said, "It depends on how old they are."

He chuckled, of course she was right, but more importantly it was working. She was breathing better. He took a deep breath and said more specifically, "Let's say it's an adult."

She knew he knew this one, but answered anyway, "32."

William took a deep breath, hoping she would follow suit, and asked, "How about vertebrae? How many vertebrae do we have?"

She listed them off by section, starting at the top, "7 cervical, 12 thoracic, 5 lumbar… " Then she paused and said, "I'm better now. Please go." And she made an effort to stand. It annoyed her that he jumped up and helped her, but she found it very difficult to get up from the floor while seven months pregnant. Once she was up, she handed him his toothbrush and a container of toothpaste and then went into the bedroom and dug out some bedding for him to use on the couch. He retrieved his pajamas. She piled the bedding into his arms, plopped his pillow on the top of the pile, and he left the room in silence.

On the other side of the door, he turned around and softly lay his forehead on the door. Listening, he was relieved that she did not seem to be crying anymore – at least not so hard. Nausea swirled around in his gut while that one, hair-raising, violin note continued to sear in his head. The episode replayed again, running through his mind, against his will, forcing him to experience it all over, in seemingly slow motion and minute detail – _His focus, on the derriere of the waitress behind them, after she had flirted with him mere seconds before, stirring an urge in him. He could see her, Julia, the love of his life, blurry, on the sidelines of his periphery. He imagined walking up behind the waitress, pulling her close, breathing in her scent, feeling her swoon and buckle with his touch. His body demanded he slip her bloomers down, bend her forward … As if hearing it while underwater, Julia's voice touched him, "She is quite beautiful, is she not?"_ Anticipating the pain, he shoved the memory away before he could see the look on Julia's face again, barely noticing his anger had clenched his jaw so tightly he nearly chipped a tooth.

He pushed away from the door and took a seat on the couch, the pile of items in his lap burdening him with the reminder of their rift. He felt so dazed, and dizzy – and so vehemently angry with himself. His fingers were drawn into fists, threatening the integrity of the toothpaste container. He imagined punching a wall with his other hand. Instead he slapped himself repeatedly, hard, in the side of his head. " _How could I be so stupid?_!" he accused himself. Throwing the pile to the couch, he jumped up. He needed to get away, get out! He would go for a walk, even better a bike ride! After removing the jacket and cummerbund of his tuxedo, he grabbed his jacket and put on his hat. His hand on the doorknob, he stopped – he could not go. He could not leave her when she was this upset. What if she started crying so violently again? He needed to be there to watch over her, albeit from a distance.

Incessantly it played in her mind's eye, although her subconscious need to analyze the situation had shifted the memories to earlier, from before he had been so enchanted with someone else that he lost control of his eyes, among other things. _She had looked on, watching, as he held the waitress' eyes and asked, "Would you recommend the apple pie or the chocolate cake?" Julia's temper flared as she remembered the waitress wiggling at William and brashly flirting with him, "Oh definitely the chocolate cake – to go with those dreamy brown eyes of yours," the woman had replied. And then she had dropped her eyes down, admiring the look of him. Couldn't she see he was with her – and that she was obviously very pregnant – with his child! My God, the man even wears a wedding ring! Exasperated and furious, she sighed. She couldn't help but wonder, if this woman preyed on her husband right in front of her as she did, what must it be like when she is not around? William had acted like he didn't even notice, like he usually does in such circumstances, but only moments later she saw him stray._ She started to cry again…

Abruptly she stopped herself. " _He's right, I need to think about something else_ ," she coached herself. Remembering that she had a novel she had started reading in her night-table drawer, she pulled it out and started to read. The distraction worked.

William tried to distract his mind from its torments by reading a science journal, but he found he was still plagued by the repeating images. His hands rubbed through his hair, rough and harsh, he knew he needed to move, to exercise, in order to cope. His weights were in the bedroom closet, where he could not go to get them, so he decided to do pushups. He changed out of the rest of his tuxedo and then put on his pajama bottoms. Then, to increase the strain, he put his feet up on the back of the couch and did pushups until he collapsed, exhausted and sore, then he moved on to sit-ups, then back to pushups until he was incapable of doing anymore. He cleaned up in the suite's half-bath and tried to sleep, resorting to the proverbial counting of sheep. Just before he drifted-off he thought, " _I wonder if this works because it imitates the side-to-side eye movement I have seen when a dog runs in his sleep, or even when Julia is having a dream?_ "

It seemed so real, his dream:

"Julia," he called out into the empty morgue. "Dr. Grace," he tried. " _That's funny_ ," he thought, " _I'm sure I saw the two of them come back from lunch_." He turned to leave, but then turned back. The voice in his head spoke, " _Yes! That is Julia's dress. Why is her dress hanging on the wall in the morgue?"_ On Dr. Grace's desk he found a business card. It was pertaining to the case he was working on – it was for a stripper club. " _She wouldn't_ ," he thought, remembering discovering Julia naked at the nudist camp.

Next, he found himself outside of the stripper club. He tucked the business card in his pocket and braced himself against what he expected to find – his wife up on the stage stripping for a room full of disgusting, hooting men. He pushed the door opened. It was dark and smoky, and raunchy music was playing. A huge man, likely the bouncer, nodded to him, allowing him to pass. By the time he walked down the hall and entered the showroom, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw that there was a blond woman on the stage. Her back was to the audience. She was still somewhat clothed. His body nearly boiled with the mix of emotions – anger (she was _**HIS**_ wife!), and shame (that she would put herself in such a lowly place in such a sordid establishment), and … to his own shame, a burst of lust and pride (his wife was stripping down to that gorgeous body of hers, in public – and although he wanted no other man to ever see her sensuous naked body, he also knew that it was _only_ him that would make love to her. He was certain of it).

He walked over to the bar, noticing that the smell of liquor and smoke repulsed him, and he ordered a spruce beer, garnering the usual disapproving looks from the bartender. The catcalls and whistles exploded, drawing his eyes to the stage. He nearly fell to his knees with the sight, the jolt to his groin surged throughout his whole body, and his head began to spin. Oh my God – she had turned her back to the crowd, and then bent over, and … lifted her skirt, and … she had nothing on underneath it, and … the view was magnificently, overwhelmingly enticing, and … his body tightened, and … he wanted nothing more than to get inside of that succulent woman.

The words startled him, pulled him out of the fog, "She is quite beautiful, is she not?" Suddenly he realized, now able to see as if he were standing on the other side of the stage, that the woman was _NOT_ Julia – it was the waitress from George's Awards Dinner! He was dumbfounded, shocked. "Got a light?" the man next to him asked, continuing their conversation as if nothing was wrong. "Uh, no. I don't smoke," William replied. Someone else provided the man with a match. William heard the sound of the match strike, followed by the flare as it ignited and the smell of sulpher. He looked at the man for the first time really, now, with the light from the match on his face. " _Familiar … Those blue eyes … I'm so drawn to them_ …" the thoughts ran through his mind like electric shocks. He looked away for a moment – recognition flooded over him – " _JULIA!"_ When he turned back, the man, Julia, was gone, replaced by a cloud of smoke. He had to squint, the nasty smoke stinging his eyes, to see the man – the man that he knew, and only he knew, was in reality, under that jacket and trousers, his curvy, supple, silky-skinned, wife. She left the showroom and turned deeper down the hall.

When he pushed the men's room door opened, hot, humid steam washed over him. Through the fog, he searched for her. Around the last stall, there she was! – back against the wall, in a tiny alcove. She ducked her chin, bringing the brim of her hat between their eyes, and took a long drag on her cigarette. With her voice deep, low, and scratchy, she asked, "You a copper?"

William lifted his jacket lapel to display his badge and stated, "I am Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary… I have reason to believe you are dressing of the opposite sex. You are under arrest for breaking a city ordinance."

"Oh, but detective, you are wrong… I am a man dressed as a man. And I do not believe you can prove otherwise," she said, her voice now sultry and alluring.

"Turn around and put your hands up on the wall," he ordered.

She sighed and dropped her cigarette to the floor, slowly and seductively wiggling her leg as she crushed it under the toe of her shoe. She then obliged with his command, saying, "This is harassment detective. I have no weapon and I am not resisting."

William swallowed, working to contain his mounting arousal. Even in a man's suit, when she lifted her hands above her head, the jacket rose, revealing the lower portion of her enticing, rounded, double-half-mooned buttocks through the fabric. He approached, taking his time. He cleared his throat, and still his voice was husky, "I am not only searching for weapons," he explained, "I am also searching for evidence." Stepping close behind her, maintaining merely a hair's breadth of space between them, he reached his arms around her and slid his hands up her ribcage, and then under her armpits, jolting with need as he heard her, ever so quietly, moan. " _Julia_ ," her name swam and soared in his head. Continuing to travel, the fingers of one of his hands tucked between her cheek and the cold tile wall, and he tilted his head to line his lips up with her ear under the brim of her hat, the brim of his own homburg sliding along the edge of her hat, and he tenderly stroked her jaw. His breath cascaded over her, hot and seductive, as he said, "No facial hair to speak of." He inhaled deeply, taking in her mouth-watering scent.

Offering a defense, she replied, now her voice squeaky with lust, "I recently shaved, detective."

"Umm, I see," he replied as his hand moved down her throat, caressing it firmly. "There is clearly an absence of an Adam's Apple. I'm afraid things are not looking very good for you," his voice whispered before he took her earlobe roughly in his mouth, twisting and sucking on it hungrily.

"Oh but detective, there is large individual variation with respect to the laryngeal prominence," she argued, unintentionally revealing her medical training, causing him to stifle a laugh.

He kissed her ear, and then nibbled, prompting her to moan again, and to his delight, she dropped. He stepped in closer, pinning her tightly to the wall, holding her up. Air rushed out of his nostrils, announcing his burning arousal, the crazed urgency of his want for her. Making sure to slide inside of her suit jacket, he pressed his hands firmly against opposing sides of her ribcage and rode the curves of her down into the dip at her waist. A stronger surge of air burst out of him as his hands continued down the steep outward bulge of her curvaceous hips. The touch surged her into a lustful arch, and he felt his erection poke against her buttocks, prompting her to grow exponentially heavier and she moaned, more desperately, once more. Shifting his head to torment her other ear, he whispered, "Magnificent, wide hips." His head spun so with need, deliciously swirling as the floor seemed to lift up, defying gravity. He worked to tighten the backs of knees, fighting the fall.

She collapsed once more as his hands grabbed at her shirt, lifting the bottom of it out of her trousers, and then slid under the fabric to swelter her bare skin with his bristly hands. His hands moved inward and changed direction, riding up across her belly. "Mmm," a moan escaped his throat as he surrounded her breasts from below, cupping and molding the supple flesh. "Oh, you are definitely a woman," he declared in her ear, his voice dry and raspy, "A delicious, delicious woman," he said as he dug deeper into her, pressing himself against her buttocks, hard. Holding her firmly with one arm tucked across her chest, once again, his other hand was on the move, downward, pressing in against her sternum, dipping in at her belly button. "There is one final piece of evidence I will need to prove my case," he claimed, then taking her neck in his mouth and sucking roughly, marking her skin.

Her voice pleaded from under him, weak and helpless and out of breath, "Please detective. Please don't…"

He found the waistband of her trousers, aligned his fingers to slip in under them. Then slipping under the waistband of her bloomers…

She gasped harshly, and arched back into him again, "What are you doing to me," she cried, "Oh my God William, William please," barely above a whisper. Her moan was devastating as he breached her slippery, warm folds, finding the deepest part of her crevice and opening her, marveling in the drippy, tight, balmy, resistance she offered against him.

"My God, beyond any doubt you are a woman, a luscious, luscious woman, Julia," he said, feeling the Earth move under him. He removed his hand and rushed to unbutton her trousers.

"Someone could come in," she warned, breathy and desperate.

Having lost control, pumped wild with desire, he did not care. He unbuttoned his own trousers, and they dropped to join hers in the pile on the floor around their feet. His hands reached around her, massaged the fronts of her thighs, and he moaned with the agony of the feel of her naked skin. He demandingly pushed his knee between her thighs, spreading them wider. And he lowered himself, driving upward, he ruptured her, her moan seeming to complete the circuit, electrifying his entire being. He had to go in deeper. He pushed into her with all his might, deeper and deeper into her, each forceful thrust shoving the air out of her, the sound of her breath rhythmically luring him further and further inside. Oh, he sensed it. It was near. Right there, within reach. He stretched and surged … And, "Oh my God, he touched her delicious core, erupting every ounce of strength out of him. Euphoria gushed, warm and liquidy, flooding through each cell in his body, creating spasms of pleasure that raged through him in wave after wave of scrumptious bliss. The twitches slowed, propelling him to consciousness in a rocking motion, slowly floating closer and closer to the surface.

Awake, William allowed himself to wallow in the exquisite feelings as his heartbeat pounded and his breath hurried. "Mmm," he moaned softly to himself. His heart slowed, his breath lengthened and calmed, and he drifted into an awareness that he was on the couch. He felt the now-cold, sticky remnants of his dream in his pajamas as the magic wore off and the sadness inside of him grew, until it happened – he remembered why he was alone, why she was not here with him… He would need to cleanup, he acknowledged with a sigh.

Only realizing he was finally able to fall back asleep when he awoke with the sunlight softly illuminating the room early the next morning, a mixture of despair, and stress, and hope, and anger pulsed through William's veins. The thought of going to church was unappealing, save for finally being able to ride his bike. Self-discipline drove him, he got up and prepared to go. Tip-toeing while in their bedroom, Julia's breathing told him she was asleep, lifting his dampened spirits a fraction for he had been worried that she would not be able to do so. He tucked this soiled pajamas into the laundry basket in the closet and stealthily collected his clothes for the day. As he closed the suite door behind him, he paused in the hallway, admitting to himself that he felt dread about returning. Maybe church was a good idea after all – perhaps prayer and confession could alleviate some of this hopelessness.

Grateful that she was able to sleep in, Julia decided to order herself her favorite breakfast – French toast and bacon – and a Mimosa. Waiting for the hedonistic Sunday morning delicacies to arrive, she brushed her teeth and cleaned up. Expectedly, her eyes were puffy from all of her crying, and she found she was precariously balanced on the edge of falling into unstoppable sobbing again. " _A hot shower would surely help,_ " she thought, planning on indulging after her meal so she would be able to take her time.

She had found, that beyond a doubt, she could not take a shower without having memories of making love with William flow through her – this time was no different. But so bittersweet when the lovely images and sensations replayed, mixing with the hurt and anger she felt now. As she dried off, her image in the steamy mirror drew her attention with a sigh. It had been like a perfect storm, her feeling acutely unattractive, William withdrawing, only reinforcing her fears that he found her at the very least unappealing, and then to have him become aroused by another, solidifying the certainty of her suspicions, and breaking her heart in the process. The hole she found herself in felt impossibly deep….

It came to her while she was brushing her hair, and she asked herself how she had coped at other times in her life when she felt such despair – " _writing in your journal_ ," her inner voice imparted as an answer. Suddenly, the need to write overtook her.

After having finished, tears glistening her cheeks, she considered having William read what she had written. With a deep breath, she decided she wanted him to know how she felt, what thoughts were going through her mind. In her journal, she added a note to him at the end of the entry. Uncomfortable with being with William when he read it, she left her journal on the dining-room table, opened to the page. Next to the journal, she left him a simple note, "Please Read."

She would visit a friend, getting her out of the house, but also, she yearned for the chance to talk this through, with someone besides William. Ready to go, she stood in the foyer pinning her hat, when she looked back at the table. It was what he would see when he got home and he discovered that she was not there. An idea sparked in her mind, and she rushed to his dresser. When William returned, he would find her journal, opened and disclosing, and next to it, he would find his, closed and harbored by a pen – inviting him to do the same. Feeling terribly vulnerable, she headed out the door.

Having spoken with his priest in Confession, and with God in his prayers, William was feeling more confident and hopeful after church. He had ridden directly home, deciding not to buy flowers – too little, and too much of a cliché. Prepared to meet her eyes the moment he breached the threshold, he quickly looked around and determined Julia was probably not home. Under his feet, he found another noise complaint. " _It is so odd that we keep getting these, this must be the third or fourth one,_ " he thought, picking it up and trying to ascertain the time. " _We haven't been "_ _ **noisy**_ _" in that way for quite some time now. "Perhaps they heard Julia crying,"_ he reasoned, " _Or maybe she had one of her more vocal dreams last night – though I truly doubt such a dream could rouse a noise complaint…"_ He removed his hat and coat and then checked the bedroom to be certain he was alone. Although he was surprised Julia had felt up to going out to one of her charity organizations after last night, he guessed she probably had done so. Normally he would wait for her to have lunch… His eyes caught the sight of the journals on the dining-room table.

Julia's Journal Entry:

 **My mind won't stop replaying it – the moment it happened, when my world fell apart. His beautiful eyes, darkened and focused and shining, and his jaw tight as he fought against his urge while at the same time, he was elated by the feelings** _ **she**_ **aroused in his groin. "She is quite beautiful, is she not?" I had said to him across the table, as he fantasized about touching and making love to the waitress behind me. I had said it so cavalierly, so nonchalantly, as if I were speaking of a flower or a painting. The pain didn't really hit me until his eyes met mine, and then I knew that he wanted another, not me. He could not deny it. He would not try to.**

 **I should have sensed it was coming, for he had withdrawn. He came home later and later each day for no good reason, and he had stopped touching me. I so miss his care, his caress. He has barely even looked at me the last few days. It certainly hasn't helped matters that every time I look in the mirror I feel an aversion and distaste for my body. I suppose he does too.**

 **And I am so angry – angry at the injustice of it. Is it not HE who made me like this, pregnant, fat and unshapely? And yet, now that I do not have what it is he wants, he looks elsewhere. It hurts so badly that I can't seem to hold onto the anger, for it becomes washed away in the tears. (Water marks dampened the page from Julia's tears as they had dropped while she had written, swelling the paper up into blurry bumps). I so love him and I so need him … Now more than ever. And I don't have him anymore. I can't believe I have lost him.**

 **I have never felt so ugly, disgusting, unwanted and unloved in my life. But it is from this undesirable state that I must fight my hardest against my helplessness and dependence, having to do so without any self-confidence, full of only insecurity and fear, for I know I cannot do this alone. Fight as I might, I must accept my failure. I need him. I can't have this baby without him, and so, covered in shame, I must beg him to stay, even if he no longer finds me attractive, even if he never wants to make love to me again, even if he doesn't love me anymore. (Now, here on this page, the text was illegible, for Julia had written on the tear-soaked paper). ?#(%#!)(^%+!?%##**

 **Please William, I beg of you not to leave me. I know you are a good man, and you will do what is right. Please stay with me … And try to love me, please. Please don't go. I need you … Our child needs you. And even if you no longer feel the same way about me, I love you desperately.**

While he had read Julia's words, tears had welled up in his eyes. Shaking his head 'no,' he wondered how things had gotten so confused and broken. Why did she think he didn't love her? How could a moment's weakness, a distraction that meant nothing – He would never have acted on his feelings; she must know that – How could his wandering eyes have hurt her so badly? And yet he knew it had been a betrayal. He was so angry at himself, repulsed by himself. He understood, now, how a person's self-loathing could drive them to beat themselves; he felt the temptation.

How could he prove to her that he loved her with all of his heart? How could he make her see? He was certain there would never come a day when he did not love her more than anything on this Earth. He choked-up and started to cry as he remembered her words, looked to them again, "Julia feels "unwanted" and "unloved" by ME, because of ME. He cried harder and, trying to soothe himself, reached up to rub his forehead. Under his fingers, he felt the muscles in his face clench and he gave in to the need to sob. Oh my God he had to fix this. It was intolerable, unbearable.

He took a deep breath – worked to pull himself together. He would read it again. There would be clues. He would find a way out of this mess.

One thing he noticed was that Julia concluded that because he was aroused by another woman, it meant that he was not aroused by her. Now he knew this was wrong, that he could be aroused by more than one woman … But, the problem was that he had to admit that he had not felt aroused by Julia since her pregnancy had started to show, ever since it was obvious that she was pregnant. So, in a way, her instincts were right about him no longer finding her attractive. But there were two counter-points as he saw it; first he was certain that when she was no longer pregnant he would be as highly attracted to her as ever, and second that even though he wasn't sexually attracted to her in her very pregnant state he could honestly say he had never found anyone more beautiful than he found her right now.

He read on. " _She says I have withdrawn_ ," he thought. William sighed and rubbed his forehead. She was right about this. And he knew that it was this point that was really the problem. " _Why have my feelings changed? Why am I avoiding her?_ " he asked himself. He remembered yesterday, after leaving the stationhouse later than was necessary, that he chose to stop off at the house construction site, and then to ride his bike through the park – he took the long way home. " _Why?_ " he asked himself again. Answers bubbled up – memories really. Memories of having memories while he rode the bike. Memories of his father, drunk and yelling, throwing tantrums and terrorizing everyone. Then the memory of finding his mother dead in the water … And later his father telling him and Susana that he was sending them to live with their aunt, and that they would probably have to go live with the nuns – that he was abandoning them as well, that they would be little more than unwanted orphans.

William took a deep breath with the realization, the conscious realization that he had doubts, doubts about his ability to be a good father. He had no idea how to do it. No one had ever shown him. In many ways, Julia had already confronted her doubts about being able to be a good mother, but he had not let himself think about it – until it was too late, until there was no turning back, until his child had a name – William Jr. or Susana. The child would be a real person, a person he could hurt. Once they had named the child it had hit him, and it seems to have hit him pretty hard. He wasn't sure he could do this.

He went back to Julia's journal and read on. From the day he had met Julia, even sooner really, for he had been told before he met her that she was a _**woman**_ who had become a _**doctor**_ , and he knew such an accomplishment reflected on her character, from way back then, he knew she was strong and independent and very, very capable. It almost seemed like someone else must have written about all of these insecurities, not his Julia. The wet marks on the page broke his heart. There was no denying it – this is how she feels. Perhaps it is because of her hormones, or more likely the result of being made vulnerable by being pregnant. He sighed, " _I would probably feel the same way_ ," he thought, " _If I were the one to carry the baby, the one to be_ _ **stuck**_." "Stuck" – he didn't like the way the word made him feel, but it was the word that best described it, and it led to the condition Julia described, being helpless and dependent. Julia seemed to be even more troubled since she had stopped working at the morgue. It must have been very difficult for her to admit to herself, and then to him, that she needed help – that she was dependent on him. From what he knew of Julia, she would have fought such a thing with every cell in her body.

William picked up the pen on top of his journal and opened it to the next blank page. He had to show her his heart. It was the only way to make it right.

 **You called it, "living in your head." To me it feels like doubt. Either way, doing it tends to cost us. It has cost us in the past, doubting ourselves and thus keeping our thoughts and feelings to ourselves – and in my case at least, even keeping those same feelings away from my own consciousness lest I feel the uneasiness and discomfort they bring. And I believe this doubting is hurting us now too. So, I vow to come clean. To write down on these pages all of my thoughts and feelings, no matter how frightening – no matter how strong my doubt, to get them out of my head.**

 **I should have told you, that I had noticed a decline in my libido the more pregnant you became. I didn't want to hurt your feelings, for it seemed that your libido responded in the opposite way. If I had been brave enough to tell you, I would have also told you that my libido did not decline to leave a void. No, it was replaced, it was replaced by the strongest feeling of awe and love and gratitude I have ever felt. I should have told you how the sight of you, pregnant with my child, the miracle of it, soars my spirit – fills me with elation and joy, the feelings of which are so powerful that I feared I would never find the words to reveal to you their majesty. I wish I had not doubted its power, for I see now that you needed to know how absolutely breathtakingly, stunning, you are to me. I cannot foretell the future, and yet I believe that when we are parents, I will still feel this newly ignited awe and the gratitude of you … And, please believe me Julia, I am certain I will also feel the familiar magnificent need to love you and touch you, and only you, ever and ever more deeply – to touch you in that one perfect spot, in that one perfect way, that spins the world and brings heaven to earth. I am certain, for it is you in my dreams my love, every night.**

 **You should have told me, that you had noticed that I was becoming withdrawn. I couldn't see it, that I was being sucked into a panic about my inability to be a good father. To be honest, I am still there, in the midst of this panic of doubt, but I will do anything to fix this mess I have made, and if it means confronting these fears, then that is what I will do.**

 **I felt it, felt it becoming unavoidable, soon after we decided on names for the baby. Somehow, having a name gives the child human significance in a way that I had not thought of before. I find that now I am keenly aware that, if I make a mistake, if I lose my temper or get too involved in my work or falter, now I know that I will be harming William Jr. or Susana. The pressure is so enormous that I find I can't breathe under the weight of it at times. And it is combined with your increased dependence on me as well. And sometimes the burden seems too heavy to bear, and to my shame, there were times I gave in to the urge to flee from it. I "took the long way home." I am so sorry, intolerably sorry, for the very last thing I ever wanted from my life was to hurt you. I wasn't avoiding you, I was avoiding the fear. I promise not to avoid it anymore.**

 **The day after we named our child, when I went to church, I found myself thinking about suggesting I share with you my journaled thoughts from when I arrested Harry for murder. I hadn't made the connection from that time to my struggles with my inadequacies as a father until now, but if I had shared this with you then, perhaps we could have avoided most of this mess. I shouldn't have kept it in my head.**

 **Now comes the hardest part Julia... In my whole life, I have never felt as awful as when I caused you to cry yourself into near convulsions … and then to write that you felt unwanted and unloved. It brings tears to my eyes, and surges a swollen, burning knot of pain in my heart to know you feel so hurt – and it is so much worse to know that it is my actions that have caused you to feel this way. How could you doubt my love for you? And now that you do, how can I ever convince you that my love for you is the only certain thing in my life? It is so ironic that my biggest doubt is that I won't be able to dissuade your doubting of me. I want you to know, I need you to know, that there is no other place I want to be than in your arms Julia. I want to be home.**

Crying once again, William placed his open journal next to hers. He took in the sight of the two opened books and took a deep breath. " _I'll have to wait_ ," he thought. Surprisingly, he felt hopeful. He decided to order some lunch and take a shower. He passed the time by reading science journals and working on an idea for a better scrutiny camera to install in the house. By five o'clock, he gave into his worries – concerned that she was hurt somewhere, or she was so upset with him that she had decided not to come home at all. After making a few phone calls, he was relieved when he spoke with Dr. Tash. Julia had gone to see him; she was on her way home now. He had just hung-up the phone and returned to his work at the table when she walked in the door.

Although she looked at him, she did not look him in the eye. She removed her jacket and her hat. William merely stood at the table with his back to the window, his plans for the scrutiny camera spread out before him, their journals, open and waiting on the other side of the table. With her eyes solidly fixed on the journals, she walked to the table. Seeing his opened and written in, she sighed. She fought the urge to lift her eyes to his; she felt him looking at her, calling her to him. She frowned and, ever so slightly, she shook her head, denying her desire to connect with him, reminding herself not to trust. She took his journal, turned, and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

William blew out some air through pursed lips, trying to excrete the tension. He reached up and rubbed his forehead. It was tight; he felt a headache coming on. Weakened, he sat at the table. Unable to focus on his task, he merely pretended to get work done. He failed even at that, with a sigh. He pulled her journal over to rest in front of him. He read it again. He ordered dinner, leaving it on the cart when it arrived. He returned to the scrutiny camera plans, but soon folded them up and then turned to look out the window at the darkening city.

He saw it first in the reflection in the window – the bedroom door opening. He turned and watched her walk to the dinner cart near the foyer. With her eyes down on the dinner cart she said, "I went to see Isaac – to talk."

"You told him about what I did..." There was a sigh and then he explained, "He must really think badly of me now," William said, feeling his heart begin to race even more.

Julia replied with the slightest suggestion of a smile on her face, "Actually, he said _**all**_ men are dogs… Perhaps that is why you are always saying you want one," she added, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but her voice still a bit too sarcastic and bitter to really pull it off. She couldn't see it, for she refused to look at him, but he smiled anyway. Lifting the wine glass from the cart, she continued, "His friend James was there too. They both claimed that all men, and hence you too, are drawn to…" she paused and then pushed herself to pick a word to describe what she meant, "to look – at the very least."

The concession offered him hope. He swallowed, and made a note of his feeling of gratitude towards Isaac. He felt it possible that he she might be able to forgive him, to see that his mistake was not as significant as she had thought – it felt possible that he might be able to forgive himself.

Remembering the journals, Julia asked, "Is there anything you want to ask me?" She did not expect his reply…

"Why won't you look at me?" he asked.

Hesitating before she answered, to ask herself the same question, she responded truthfully, "Because I get distracted by how beautiful you are."

Now it was him who was surprised by her response, having feared that it was because she was still quite angry, or maybe because she was worried she might start to cry. He ducked his chin, pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he considered the implications. He took a deep breath – "Well then, what do you want to say that you don't want to be distracted from?"

Julia lifted the bottle of wine and turned it to see the label, and as if changing subject, said, "Isaac is a good friend. He has always been. And of course, because of his profession he is quite knowledgeable in these matters. He, uh…" she glanced at William, then quickly looked back to the food cart, lifting lids, pretending to be interested in what was for dinner. She continued, "He said that changes in libido are common when the woman in a couple becomes pregnant." Still not looking at him she raised an eyebrow and went on, "It turns out that our pattern is actually the one that he has seen the most – the woman becoming more eager while the man becomes less so." She worked to open the bottle of wine.

Hope surged in William's chest. It swirled around and mixed with the love he still felt pulsating, praying.

"I told him that you had been coming home later and later, and seemed to be avoiding me," she disclosed while pouring herself a glass of wine. Feeling overwhelmed, she blew a blast of air out of her pursed lips, as she worked to alleviate some of the stress she was feeling, sending one of her dangling curls rippling. Another quick glance and she felt so pulled to him it twirled her for a moment. She looked away, focused on a point in front of her and re-gained control. She took a sip of her wine. "He is really quite brilliant William. He asked me about your relationship with your father …" she took another deep breath and continued, "I know this is personal, and you are a very private person, but unlike you, I have to talk, to share personal things that, um, that affect me. I'm sorry I uh …" She looked at him again, held his eyes longer this time…

He cleared his throat and said, "I … shared in Confession …" and he wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, suggesting he was guilty of doing the same.

Her eyes dropped away with his admission, his approval. After another sip of wine, she took a deep breath and pushed on, "It seems that the pressures of fatherhood plague all men as well. Isaac said it drives many men to run away. Um, he said that from what he knew of you, you would not." She smiled and added, "I think he likes you a lot more than you think."

She put her wine glass down, and being sure to look anywhere but at him, she walked over to stand next to him, sharing his view of the city out the window. Straining to see past their reflections, she could see it was raining, umbrellas could be seen illuminated by the street lamps bobbing about here and there. They both felt the magnetic force so common between them magnify now that she was closer. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, only to look away when he did the same thing.

She spoke once more, "He was touched by your strong desire to put my life above that of having a child – to the point that such a devoted religious and morally-upstanding man as yourself urged for me to have an abortion rather than take the chance that you might lose me… He saw it then, knew what I had told him was true, about our love for each other."

She caught him glancing sideways at her again, being momentarily distracted by the beauty of his chocolate brown eyes dancing within their long lashes. Quiet, they watched the scene before them. Julia started to cry. "I'm sorry, William," she said, barely above a whisper.

He turned, "You!" he declared, "You're sorry? Julia …" he said, his head shaking 'no,' his expression stunned, "How can you be sorry? It was me who did these things … pulled away, and …" his shame made it hard to say, "And …"

She dropped her chin and sighed. She knew what he was trying to say, and every way she thought of saying it for him brought the sting back into her heart – " _you were drawn to another" or "your eyes wandered" or "you felt aroused by someone else,_ " they all re-ignited the ache. Tears flooded her eyes with the memory of the hurt. She tried to tell herself that she was over-reacting. That Isaac had even said that William's fleeting arousal, stimulated by another woman, meant nothing, but she was failing at convincing herself. Her own words appeared in her head, that she had felt ugly and unwanted, they still seemed to ring true.

The panic and guilt were back in William's gut, swirling around, stirring up nausea and dizziness. " _I need to make her see,_ " he thought, unaware that tears were welling up in his eyes as well. He turned away from her, away from his own image in the window, and his eyes fell on her opened journal, reminding him of the words he had read, of how horribly she felt, taking his breath away with the pressure of his regret and self-loathing. It threatened to crumble him, but he fought, fought against it, looking, diving, bolting through his jumbled and tumbling thoughts to find a solution. It had felt like she had it, like she knew with certainty, beyond any doubt, that he loved her, and only her, with all of his heart just moments ago… " _Say what you wrote to her_ ," he heard his own inner-voice advise.

"Julia," he said softly, feeling her attention turn to him, "The first time I felt it – at least that I felt it very, very strongly, consciously, and …" his head shook slowly from side-to-side showing his regret of his decision at the time, "and I so very much wish I had said it to you then instead of now … was the Saturday morning a few weeks ago, the same morning we decided on the names for the baby. Do you remember?" She nodded, but he was unable to see for he still stared at the journal on the table. He continued, stronger now, "I was still in bed and you were looking at yourself in the mirror. The force of it was amazing, the feelings I had as I gazed upon you – my wife, carrying my child inside of you… The word 'miracle' does not even come close to the significance of it." He lifted his head, turned to her. " _Please look at me, Julia,_ " he pleaded, the words stuck, seemingly trapped, in his head. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. He pulled a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and handed it to her, noticing he caught her eye ever so fleetingly. He took a deep breath and ventured, stepping closer to her. "Years ago I told you that nothing in this world mattered more to me than you. It was true then, it is true now, and I know that it will always be true – that it was true even before I met you… That you are the one for me. Our struggle to be together has been monumental, and yet also unavoidable. But now, now the earth has shaken, as if it had all just been a bud, and now the world is shaking, vibrating with enormous power as that bud is blossoming – inside of you. That you can – _**are**_ – having our child, that I can see the laws of the universe be, both broken, and met, when I look at you… "

She turned, their eyes connected. His voice froze for his breath had been taken. He couldn't remember what he was going to say. The words flew away from him, caught in the gravitational cyclone, joining the other swirling colors in the kaleidoscope, along with his wind and his being, magnetically drawn to her.

She had been stunned by it too, captured as well, for a moment. She felt herself lean back, felt her body fight against it. She grabbed a hold of the darkest feeling – the one that threatened the beckoning bliss. " _Responsibility – that was it! I need to take responsibility for my part_ ," she understood. Her focus changed, tugging him out of the enchanting trance. "William, I played a role in the mess we made too. I should have talked to you about my feelings, um, of being out of control, and being overly-dependent, and so scared that you would leave me," she admitted. "It probably would have helped me … _**not**_ to over-react," she explained.

He nodded, acknowledging that if she had done so it would likely have made a difference.

He was so beautiful, his big eyes wide and warm. She wanted to be infinitely closer to him … she wanted him to hold her down and breathe on her and touch her so very, very deeply and move her over and over again, the way only he could … " _It is so strong_ ," she thought, " _But he doesn't feel it, only I do… and we can't anyway._ " She sighed with the disappointment of the realization. She would have to wait. "You said you were certain..." she asked, looking at him, her pupils black with interest, hope in her voice.

A flash sparked in his mind's eye, reminding him of the intensity, the heat, the wild, lustful demand he had felt last night in his dream. He nodded. Another flash, he had her pinned to the bathroom wall, two pairs of trousers mingling and twisting together on the floor – he was inside of her, thrusting with all of his might, and …" his knees weakened with the thought, "…the sound of her moans echoing off of the tile bathroom wall, melting into his ear, inside his soul. The memory brought a rise in him, thus the requirement to clear his throat, and still his voice scratched out and his face burned red, "I have multiple pairs of pajama bottoms as evidence."

Julia thought about this. He had bought quite a few new sets of pajamas recently, she remembered ... And he did seem to wear a new pair nearly every night. " _His dreams must be quite LUCID_ ," she thought. He had always been much … _**quieter**_ , than her, she hadn't noticed. And he was telling her it was she who he made love to in these dreams. Her need to ask indicated that she still had doubts, "And it is me, in your dreams, not some waitress or some other young new fancy?" she asked, not quite able to look him in the eye.

He ducked his chin, bent down a bit, trying to line up his eyes with hers. "Beyond a doubt it is you Julia, albeit a very un-pregnant, breathtakingly gorgeous, dream you," he replied.

Taking the chance she might see that what he was offering was a deception and her heart would be broken all over again, she held his eyes and asked, "And you are sure that the real life me will spawn such an urge in you?"

His smile was big, and it had an air of playful mischief to it. "I am," he said, giving her a slight bow, and then glancing down at his groin. He looked back at her, thrilled by the sight of her, eyes fixed down and wide and dark, soaking in the sight of his engorged trousers. "Very sure," he added, firmly.

The wave of desire hit her like a tsunami, causing her to take a step back. " _Breathe_ ," her own voice insisted. Her eyes still transfixed, her voice sleepy and weak, she said, "Oh… I see."

A delightful, devilish chuckle sprang from his throat.

Oh, how she so wanted to tease him back. "William Murdoch … I have never known you to be so, "cocky," – well at least not for quite some time," she bantered.

He returned, "Puns – the feeblest form of humor," throwing her own jab back at her from many, many years ago when he had told her of "some arresting news" he had gotten from Ruby.

"It is too bad we can't take advantage of your…" she searched for a word and finished, "state." Dissatisfied with the distance, she stepped in closer to him, adding a humming to the surge of the force between them as it multiplied. "Do you remember what you wrote, at the end, in your journal?" she asked, knowing he did, for she had never known anyone with a memory as keen as his. And she wanted more than anything to make those wishes come true.

His eyes darted, to hers, then away as he searched his brain. "I do," he answered. "I said that I wanted to be in your arms – that I wanted to be," he paused, his eyes locked with hers as the breath he took raised and dropped his chest before he avowed, "I wanted to be home."

"As do I," she whispered …

… Prompting him to take her, to wrap his arm around her waist, and pull her to him. They did not fit as well as they used to, as there was a baby snuggled in between them, bit still, the connection was magnificent. He kissed her, delighting in the feeling of her melting in his arms as he did so. Finding the feeling of their child against him only intensified his feelings of love and well-being, William whispered in her ear, "There is surely no doubt Julia; I couldn't possibly love you more."

They floated together, rocking tenderly in their embrace … until Julia's stomach growled, and she giggled.

"Shall we," he invited, as he stepped back and pulled a chair away from the table for her. Over their now-cold dinner they decided that he would read his journal to her, about the time his father had suddenly re-appeared in William's life. After dinner, they settled on the couch together and he did so.

Remembering the pain he felt when his own father questioned if he knew him, only to decide he did not, William found compassion for himself and the doubts he had been having about being able to be a good father. This, however, did not seem to ease his concerns, but rather, increase them, for it provided evidence that he had never had a chance to experience good fathering himself. He asked Julia what she had wanted from him, back when they were considering adopting children, and then again when she first became pregnant, and _**she**_ had found herself doubting _**her**_ ability to be a good mother.

She remembered – she wanted him to challenge her doubts – to disagree – to insist, whole-heartedly that he was certain that she would be a great mother. She remembered that he had done so, that it had reassured her, strengthened her. Inspired by the memory, she told him that she had never doubted, ever, that he would make a wonderful father. She explained that it was this certainty that had driven her fear, so many years ago when she retreated to Buffalo, running from the certain unbearable pain of his rejection of her if he came to know she would not be able to make him a father. She had always thought he was meant to be somebody's father, and since she couldn't be somebody's mother, well then she must have been wrong to think that their love was destined to be – it was what had spurred her doubt. The irony of the fact that he had chosen her, that he knew she was the one for him despite her not being able to have children, and then the fact that they sat together on their couch, now, with her less than two months away from having that very same impossible dream come true – that irony was not lost on them. As a matter of fact, it only added fuel to the fire of their awe. It was that fire, the one they seemed to be able to make only when they were together, it was that fire that burned away all of their doubts.

Later that night, they bent Isaac's rule, and reinstated Plan C from when they had spent the night together at her father's lake-house, after he had died. Back then, they had just gotten engaged. They were madly in love, but still unmarried, and thus they had decided that they would sleep together but _**not**_ make love. However, the next morning, William had remembered and implemented something he had learned from Ettie Weston and from his extensive reading. He had called it Plan C. There would be no intercourse, but there would be immense pleasure. It was wonderful – back then, as well as now, and thankfully, the baby seemed fine. They did, however, receive a _**legitimate**_ noise complaint the next morning, prompting William to smile to himself with secret pride. " _It had been a while_ ," he thought. Happily he remembered that Julia had whispered to him, as they lie together recovering, seeming to be floating and swirling in their eternal love for each other, " _It is without a doubt William … Without a doubt."_


	13. Chapter 13: Noise Complaints

Journal Journeys: Noise Complaints

The sun rose on the last workday, at least for the detective, before the couple would move into their own, newly constructed house. Julia had awakened before William, and she lay watching him sleep, marveling in how joyous just looking at him made her feel. Rarely did she get the chance to see him dreaming; he often awoke before her, and besides, his dreams were so much more … _quiet_ , than hers. She believed this was one of those rare times, for his eyes jerked back-and-forth under his eyelids above his beautiful, thick lashes, and his body randomly twitched here-and-there. He had recently shared with her that he often dreamed of making love with her, and she wondered if that was the subject of the dream he was having right now. Suddenly, his pelvis thrust up into the air, confirming her suspicions, but also causing him to wake-up.

His big, brown eyes opened, with a few sleepy blinks, and they met hers. Julia felt the air rush out of her, as if taken by him. She breathed in to compensate, the sound bordering on a gasp, but more slow, more deep. "Good morning gorgeous," she said, barely above a whisper.

He breathed in the rosy dawn light and smiled. "Julia," was all his, sleepy, crackly voice said.

She slid her arm across his delectably naked chest, appreciating the well-built curves and whispered in his ear, "You were dreaming."

He reached up, brushed the hair clear of her face, and then traced her ear, then her jawline, then her lips. "Yes," he said followed by a warm, deep breath, "It was quite delightful … But unfinished, and so I am a bit disappointed."

A smile grew on her face as she replied, sliding her fingers into his hair, temptingly scratching her nails across his scalp, "Disappointed … We can't have that," reminding both of them of the words she spoke to him on the picnic blanket, when the earth shook for the first time. She kissed him, soft, tender, before lifting her head, changing the angle, and then kissing him again, more demandingly, more hungry this time. It was his tongue that first breached the threshold, surging her insides into a knot that pulled tighter and tighter as their kiss continued. Her head began to drift, as if her brain were melting into a liquid, making thoughts swirl around, becoming further and further out of reach. Anticipation burned in her womb as she slid her knee up over him, the inside flesh of her thigh noting the firmness of the tops of his bicycle-riding thighs through the fabric of his pajama bottoms, before the abrupt and exhilarating rise of his lust slowed her progress and drew out of her a buckling moan. Now ravenous with need, her hot breath flooded out of her nostrils to cover his cheek and neck as they kissed and her tongue pushed into him, and her mouth found a rhythm, pushing deeper and deeper into his. Her leg reversed direction, thrilled in riding over the same bump again the other way, noticing it was even bigger now, as her hand began its descent down, over his stomach, to tuck under the loose waistband of his pajama bottoms.

" _My God,_ " he knew it was coming, the thought of it stealing his breath and swirling his head. With William's abandoned moan betraying his ecstasy the moment she touched him, she took a hold of him, and rode her fingers up to cover his tip. Sliding her opened fist up and down around him for a few strokes, she then broke away from the kiss and changed her position, kneeling between his legs and shifting lower as she started to kiss down his neck, between his pectoral muscles, and tortured him with kisses down the tender skin of his stomach. "Julia," he cried out, his voice scratchy and weak with desire. Bringing the blankets down with her, she pulled the drawstring of his pajama bottoms, sending William into a frenzied spiral, " _She's going to_ …" the enticing, agonous thought prayed, before sinking and then floating out of his reach. He lifted his pelvis up and felt the kiss of the cool morning air as she lowered his pajama bottoms, the sight of him seducing her, truly making her glad to be alive.

" _He is magnificent_ ," she thought. The words spun around in her head before she could declare them out loud. "Magnificent," her hot breath drown him, then her velvety, slippery tongue pressed down onto him, and her mouth slowly engulfed him, his firm flesh sliding along the roof of her mouth, as the powerful sensations led him to defy gravity and his body dropped away deeper into the mattress at the same time that he rose stronger and more urgent in her mouth. She knew his rhythm and she slowly rocked with it, focusing on touching him in just the right way to drive him over the edge as he pumped underneath her. Longer strokes, " _He's almost there,_ " she thought. " _Don't pull away William. Don't pull away_ ," she urged him with her mind and intensified the pressure, hoping he would let her bring him to his ultimate release and rhapsody.

She so cherished his showing of his trust in her, as he surged and erupted, gushing inside of her, soaking her with the heavenly sound of his ravaged moan. He had never let himself go in such a way before, and she quickly decided to swallow, somehow knowing that doing otherwise would make him feel guilty and uncomfortable. He was softer now, spent and sweaty, and out of breath. She carefully let go of him and then crawled up to lay her head on his chest, happy to feel his loud heartbeat in her ear. Her fingers dilly-dallied, frolicking upon his chest while he stroked her hair.

He started to thank her, but not wanting to hear it, she covered his mouth with a finger and teased, "I see that you quite like Plan C, detective."

He chuckled as he rolled her over and claimed, "As will you doctor," before he brought her to loud, boisterous cries of pleasure, and caused her to once again, torture their bed-sheet with her desperate fingers as she strove to tolerate the deliciousness.

Once her cries of passion had completed their crescendo, the two lovers lie together, filled with sultry satisfaction, swimming in the not-yet-stilled room as their hearts slowed together. She lifted her head off of his shoulder and tucked it into his neck, giving him a kiss before she nibbled on his salty skin. The feel of his unshaven face sparked her recent memory of becoming extremely aroused with this specific, intimate touch, and she giggled at herself as she realized that the sensation had stirred lust in her once again. Finding his ear she whispered, "I fear I may be insatiable, detective." She rolled onto her back and added, "Oh how I wish it was a Saturday," causing him to laugh.

William placed an elbow into the mattress and rested his head in his hand. He placed his other hand gently upon her belly and asked, "Does everything feel alright with the baby?"

She heard the concern in his voice. "I suspect the baby feels quite good, William," she replied as she tucked under him and squeezed him tighter, adding, "Like having just gotten a warm hug from its Daddy, I believe the baby feels quite wonderful."

"Julia," he complained with his eyes seeming to examine her bulging belly, "The baby cannot possibly know that I have anything to do with what it is feeling pumping through its veins or the sensation of being held tight in the womb, or anything else for that matter."

She placed her fingers on his chin and turned him to catch his eyes – his big, brown lovely eyes – and said, "Oh contraire, this baby has known the sound of its father's beautiful, deep, low voice since before it had ears, and this baby knows that it is when _**that**_ voice, _**your**_ voice William, is around, that it feels loved, and cared for, and happy. Believe me, this baby already loves you." He smiled and gave her a soft, grateful kiss.

She asked, "Do you remember our first kiss?"

"Of course," he answered. "Though, I dare say, it was a bit more than a kiss – quite a bit more if either of us had had a prophylactic," he speculated with a shy smile growing at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes," she agreed. "William," she asked, "Did you write about it … in your journal?"

He chuckled and replied, "Volumes."

Julia laughed as her insides melted with love and glee. "Perhaps tonight, hmm? I'll leave them out."

"Good," he answered with a slight bow, then repeating, "Good."

Later, sitting together, indulging in one of their last hotel-cooked breakfasts, William brought up settling their bill with the hotel. It was a Friday, and they would be moving to their new house over the weekend. "I collected the bill yesterday," he explained.

After taking a sip of her coffee, Julia asked, "We should be paid-up, I thought. Didn't we pay the last month's rent already, before we moved in?" She enthusiastically prepared her next bite of her French toast.

"There are unpaid fines for noise complaints," William said, then he leaned in closer to her adding, "Admittedly, we likely deserve the one we will probably get for this morning," he cleared his throat and continued, "And last night too," raising an eyebrow at her. Oh he basked in it, for it was so rare, when Julia blushed. His devilish grin tugged at her heart as she gave him a playful kick under the table. His attention back to his plate, William went on, "However, there are about five complaints that we certainly should not be held responsible for … We had not yet bent Isaac's rules at the time they were filed – we were not … using Plan C."

Julia asked, "Do you think we should bother William … It is …" She stopped herself. She was going to say " _It is not that much money,_ " but she remembered that he would likely not see it that way. He had made big adjustments upon marrying her, but some habits, like being frugal, were hard to break. She settled it in her mind and said instead, "Perhaps." She hoped he would just forget about it.

There was an unexpected knock at the door, prompting the couple to glance at each other – it was too early for the kitchen crew to be collecting the breakfast cart. Knowing William was pressed for time, Julia went to answer the door. It was Constable Crabtree. She invited him in, apologizing for having left his Awards Dinner early.

George held his constable's helmet in hand, dropping his eyes to fiddle with it, and tried to hide his hurt, "I understand doctor." (He would later tell William that the speech was mainly addressed to him – about how he had inspired George, not only as member of Constabulary, but more importantly, as a man).

Julia felt a twinge of guilt, but reminded herself that leaving really had been essential. She repeated, "I am so sorry George…" before her husband walked up and changed the subject asking…

"So what have you George?" saving her from considering offering an explanation for their early departure that difficult and tumultuous night.

Also relieved to get off of the current topic, George noticeably jumped to answer, "Sir!" with a nod, "You are needed. A dead body has been found and the caller said there were suspicions of _**foul**_ play …" Stepping further into the suite George continued talking as the detective put on his shoes. "Speaking of _**FOUL**_ play sir, I exited the stairwell a flight early just now – I guess my mind was somewhere else, and I was so surprised … I didn't know they allowed pets here? …"

"They don't George," William said.

"Well I not only saw one, I spoke to the owner, hence my joke sir … It was an African Grey Parrot," George declared. He waited for a reaction to his joke, but not getting one, he offered to explain it, " _ **Foul**_ play… _**parrot**_ …"

Julia teased, "Of course you know, George, that when you have to explain your joke, it wasn't a very good joke," a jesting smile taking her face.

"I'll have to agree with you there doctor," he replied humbly. "Actually doctor, you were helping me with the case when I first became acquainted with this type of bird – do you remember? I believe you also made a bad joke at the time – about _**finger**_ food," he countered.

Julia held back a laugh. She definitely remembered the time George was referring to – and at the time the constable, or rather, Acting Detective for Stationhouse 4, had struggled with keeping his lunch down as she had given him her post-mortem report, part of which included her showing him the stomach contents – which included the man's own finger. "Oh yes, I do remember George," she replied. Looking at William, she explained that it had been while he was bedridden and recovering from a bad fall and Constable Crabtree was acting as detective for Stationhouse #4. William nodded as he slid his suit jacket on.

Excitedly, George told the story, "They are very bright. The bird in this case actually _spoke_ , sir – and very clearly at that. An expert told me that the bird was not only repeating the exact words he had heard, but was also imitating the person's voice and timing and accent and everything as well. Now, sir …"

William was starting to look impatient with George's wanderings. Julia noticed and ducked her chin and smiled at her husband, urging for his tolerance.

George did not notice. He continued, "You would have figured it out right away, because you speak French sir, but I needed Higgins to tell me the bird was saying, "Eat the finger – mange le doigt," and this went a long way in helping me solve the case."

"Yes George, speaking of the case …" William pressed.

"Oh yes sir, it is a bit of a trip. I have Tom outside waiting for us with the carriage. I brought your murder bag."

"Has a coroner been called?" the detective asked as he put on his coat.

"Yes sir. It is relatively close to station 3's jurisdiction, so Dr. Kingsley agreed to take the case," George said.

Knowing her husband would be uncomfortable with much of a display of affection, Julia gave William a quick kiss and said, "He's quite good William. It should be alright."

To her surprise, William slid an arm around her waist and stepped in close. He whispered in her ear, "Kingsley is no Dr. Ogden, but I will make do," before he gave her a soft, tender, more meaningful kiss good-bye.

Julia packed boxes all day and dealt with the delivery of the last pieces of furniture to the house. She had just collapsed down onto the couch to take a much needed break when the phone rang. It was William asking her if it would be alright for the two of them to take George out to dinner tonight – as a gesture to make it up to him for leaving his awards dinner early. She agreed, suggesting they try a new Indian restaurant her friend had raved about. She reminded him that George was very adventurous when it came to food, stating, "Remember how excited he was about Chinese food? I think he would love it." As she hung up the phone, her eyes drifted to their journals she had left out on the side-table. " _Perhaps another time,_ " she thought, acknowledging her disappointment. Then she heard William's voice in her head, " _Volumes_ ," he had said. The memory brought a joyful smile to her face.

That evening, the couple was on their way out to meet George at the Indian restaurant. As they walked down the stairs arm-in-arm William was telling Julia about his conversation with George that had prompted him to set up tonight's dinner. "It seems he had quite a lot that he wanted to tell me – to thank me for really…" As they reached the lobby, William said he wanted to stop at the front desk to check about the unfounded noise complaints. He pulled a small piece of paper out of his vest pocket. It had the dates for each of the complaints. He suggested to the clerk that they may have the wrong suite number, at least for most of the older dates. The clerk replied, "Actually sir, you have been _**named**_ specifically in all of the complaints we have charged you with."

"Named specifically!?" William asked, raising an eyebrow with his disbelief.

"You are Detective _**WILLIAM**_ Murdoch, are you not sir?" the clerk asked, sounding a bit snide.

"I am," William agreed.

Julia had an inkling her husband would not like where this was going. She touched his arm, her eyes pleading, "William, please…just pay it."

"But it is unreasonable to pay a fine for making noises that we did not make, Julia," he argued.

The clerk interjected, "Oh, I believe it is definitely coming from your suite sir… Um, I will read you what was reported for the one from last month in our log… the first one on your list there…" The man fished out the correct log book and leafed through the pages. Abruptly the ruffling sound stopped and he stabbed his skinny finger directly below an entry for the correct date. He cleared his throat and pulled his collar away from his pointy Adam's Apple and read, his voice flat and monotone, "Please William please. Oh my God, William. Don't stop William, please don't stop. Oh. Oh," the clerk lowered his glasses a little on his nose and lifted the book closer to his face, struggling to read the writing, "Multiple more Oh's, and then, William, oh William." Terribly proud of himself, the man placed the log book down on the desk and turned the book to allow the detective to see for himself.

Both William and Julia were blushing – a lot. William was unable to look the clerk in the eye, so feigned interest in reading the entry in the book as an excuse to keep his eyes down, although seeing the words written down only served to deepen his skin's crimson color. Julia swallowed, hoping to ensure that her voice wouldn't crack and repeated, "Please William, just pay the fine."

He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his wallet, counting out the money to cover all of the fines and handing it over. He pushed himself to say, "Thank you."

"Sir," the clerk called, holding them a moment longer, "There are a total of eight complaints. One more from last night and one from this morning that had not yet been listed on your bill."

William cleared his throat and now, feeling less embarrassed and more annoyed – and figuring that at least those two complaints were actually their responsibility, he dug out more money and handed it to the man.

As they walked away, Julia tucked her arm into his elbow and fell into laughter. Her eyes grew big as she said, "Oh my!"

"It must be your dreams Julia," William pondered, trying to work it out in his mind, his color seeming to be returning back to normal, "I will have to check to see if there is an air vent close to the bed." A big smile curved onto his lips as he lifted an eyebrow and added, before joining her in laughter, "Specifically by name…" he stopped, unable to continue through his giggling, "You are detective _**WILLIAM**_ Murdoch, are you not?" he pushed the imitation of the man out, starting to buckle over, his cheeks puffed up around his eyes with the size of his smile.

Julia fought to hold it together and plainly declared, "The evidence was quite convincing, "before she collapsed into laughter with him, squeezing him tight, loving him with all her might.

Returning from their dinner with George, they were glad it was not actually that late, barely past eight-thirty. As they started up the stairs, Julia asked William, "Do you feel up to keeping our date – to read from our journals – about our first kiss?"

"That sounds lovely. The carriage for the last boxes isn't to arrive until ten in the morning, so we can even sleep in a little," he said.

They rounded the corner and began up the stairs to the third floor, but being prompted by a voice behind them, they both halted and shared a look of surprise. They had heard someone call William's name from down the hall, on the wrong floor. Listening with more focus now, it was quite clear, "William please … Don't stop. Please don't stop William … Oh … Oh … William …"

Julia teasingly poked him in the chest, "You dog William …" she declared with a giggle, "You are so lucky you are with me right now, lest I might think you were with someone else… uh, pleasing her."

William's eyes grew wide with amazement as the vocalizations started up again. He stared off in the direction they were coming from down the hall and said, "It sounds _**just like you**_ , Julia." He moved in the direction of the other voice, turning back to add, "Someone must have made a recording of us," before he picked up a jog, landing on his tiptoes, attempting for both speed and stealth.

Julia hurried behind him. " _Is it deja vu_?" she wondered. This seemed so familiar somehow – the second floor … " _Oh!_ " it hit her like a rock! "WILLIAM!" she screamed out in a whisper…

The stereophonic effect of Julia's voice coming from both in front of him and behind him stunned him momentarily. However, upon realizing that the voice behind him was actually hers and the one in front of him was from the recording, his anger pushed him forward, albeit with more caution, until he arrived at the door under suspicion of housing the … trickster. It was the door directly below their bedroom, surely no coincidence. He glanced back at his wife before he lifted his hand to knock…

"William," she whispered, now closer, "Wait!" she hollered in a whisper – her eyes stern, stopping him from completing his knock on the door. "It is not a recording William – It's the bird," she explained, holding his eyes. She saw it instantly, the quick flashes of recognition as he put the pieces together in his mind.

"Oh!" he whispered back, "Of course. George said he saw a parrot on the second floor – mange le doigt, of course. It's a bird that is doing imitations... of …"

From behind the door they heard it so clearly begin again, "William please, don't stop. Please don't stop William… Oh … Oh … Oh … William …"

They were dumbfounded – and very embarrassed – and Julia's lust-filled, desperate voice from the other side of the door showed no signs of stopping. She took his elbow and pulled him away from the door. As they both turned to head back to the stairs they fell into giggles, giggles that threatened to barrel into raucous laughter, prompting William to place a finger over his lips and "Shh!" Julia.

Just then – the door behind them opened and they heard an old woman's voice say, "William Murdoch and his lovely wife Julia Ogden I presume."

William and Julia paused, stuck between running away as fast as they could and turning back. Their eyes met and William swallowed. They would face her. William stood as tall and proud as possible; Julia brushed a few wrinkles out of her dress.

The little old lady wore an expression between a smirk and compassion. She continued on, straight-faced, either because she really did not see anything uncomfortable about the situation, or because she knew there would be so much more to milk out of their plight if she held to her role. "Your constable, a Constable Crabtree I believe he said his name was … He stopped by just this morning…"

William and Julia's eyes darted to each other, the one reading the fear on the face of the other. " _Oh my God, had George heard the bird imitating Julia's passionate cries as well!?_ " the disturbing thought bolted through their brains.

"I was wondering how long it would take a fine detective, such as yourself to find my little Charlie. Now mind you," the woman confided, lowering her voice and gesturing them into her apartment, "This is by far not the first time Charlie's antics have caused a little trouble." She giggled with her memories, and with the astounded faces of her two guests. " _Too shocked to blush_ ," she thought to herself. She continued, "We had to leave our last establishment because he imitated the cries that the owner's son bellowed when he was receiving his beatings – even the sound of the belt slapping the boy's skin… I sure was glad when Charlie finally stopped that one… Oh, my name is Mrs. Wilmont, by the way. My husband Henry passed a few years ago; I've been on my own since then. Would you like some tea? I know it's late, but I thought you might want to meet Charlie…" She brought them around the corner to see the African Grey Parrot in a large cage. The bird made a typical bird-sound, "Wraak," as the old woman reached in and stroked his head. She turned and looked at the dazed couple standing before her.

William looked at Julia, then cleared his throat and started, "We uh …" but stalled. He really had no idea what to say.

"Oh don't worry dear," the woman said. She went on, relishing the whole state of affairs. Never before had Charlie brought her into contact with two such famous people – and she had the edge over them in the encounter at that! "I had thought Charlie might stop imitating you soon. He had been doing you less and less often… It seemed you two had stopped, um … Well I saw in the papers that you had become pregnant doctor, so I figured that was why," Mrs. Wilmont explained, looking at Julia.

Julia cleared her throat and nodded, "Um, yes," she said, "Well as you can see – quite pregnant," with a shy giggle.

The sound of Julia's voice seemed to trigger the bird. He flapped his wings and started his routine again, "Wraak, "William please, Don't stop. Please don't stop William … Oh …"

Being too much to bear, both William and Julia turned crimson red with embarrassment. "Is there no way to stop him?" William asked, feeling he may just fall down and die in shame. And yet, it was still there, in the back of his ego, that pride, that pride in having such blatant evidence exposed that he brought his wife such pleasure. It was this alternative side of the situation that kept him standing upright. It allowed him to relax enough that he started to laugh. His laughter quickly grew in intensity and soon all three of them were buckled over in tears of boisterous laughter.

Once their laughter died down, Mrs. Wilmont said, "You two seem to have started up again lately, sparking Charlie into a whole new frenzy of his routine," she said once the laughter had died down. She winked at them and said, "I was glad to hear it." She explained, "It is important for a couple going through the stresses of becoming parents to have the closeness and reassurance in each other's love that such intimacy can ensure."

Julia took William's arm in hers and said, "It has been nice," prompting William to turn a little red all over again. She took a deep breath and said, "Well, it has been very nice meeting you Mrs. Wilmont." She turned and looked at William and said, "I think we will decline your offer for tea. We are moving out this weekend, and have an awful lot to do."

William nodded and said, "Yes. Thank you for introducing us to Charlie. Be forewarned, you are likely to get noise complaints after we have moved out and they figure out it is your bird and not us making the noise." He gave her a slight bow and the couple headed for the door. She wished them luck in their new home and they said good-night.

As they walked down the hall, after they heard the woman's door close, Julia said to William, "She seems nice."

"Yes," he agreed, turning his head from side-to-side with amazement at the whole thing. He lifted an eyebrow at her and said, "It is really unbelievable. Do you think the bird said those things when George was here?"

"Perhaps," she answered, squeezing his arm tight. She found herself hoping that he did. She realized that she wanted others to know how truly and astoundingly happy she and William were. She added, "If he ever wondered … about us, well, now he would know. That's not so bad is it?"

"No," William said, "No, that's not so bad." That deep-seated pride puffed up his chest again.

Once they were back in their own suite, they decided they would shower and change into their pajamas. If they still felt up to sharing their journals after that, then they would. William showered first. While Julia showered William set up a mock picnic with a box of chocolates and their journals in the center of a puffy sea of blankets. Flickering candles helped set the mood. As Julia stepped into the bedroom, still drying her hair with a towel, but otherwise naked, she halted in glorious surprise at the sight of his picnic. "William, what have you …" she started to ask before their eyes met, and she saw it – his love for her, his awe for her, and his need for her, catching her breath, "…done," she finished, sounding almost sleepy from having been stunned.

"Marry me," he declared, kneeling on the blankets, extending his hand, inviting her to join him in the picnic. She walked over, took his hand, and he helped her kneel with him. Continuing his proposal, he asked, "Julia Ogden will you entwine your life with mine, lie with me, dance with me , dine with me, laugh with me, cry with me, fight with me, make-up with me, make love with me, read with me , write with me …"

Julia placed her finger over his lips, stopping him, and leaned in close to is ear. She whispered, "I will William. I will live my life with you. I will give you everything I have, and more. I love you." He lowered her down onto the blankets and kissed her.

When he broke the kiss, she said, "I never thought it could get better, but it does."

"Mm," he agreed. "Do you feel up to reading?" he asked.

From warmly tucked underneath him she replied, "Yes, that would be lovely." William rolled onto his back, releasing her. She reached over him to get her journal and rested the book upon his chest.

Julia read her journal- from after their first kiss:

 **I had already fallen in love with him. This is no new news, yet somehow, it seems I am now plunging, hurling through space, so that I can't catch my breath, and my mind can't catch up to my thoughts. Oh, the feeling is magnificent. All from a kiss. It really was all from that one, first, tender, soft kiss … From then on everything is just a blur. I can think of nothing else but having him near, feeling his breath on me, hearing the sound of each kiss break off before the next one begins. Oh it floods over me and through me with such power, overwhelming me, crumpling me … helpless now, I fall deeper and deeper – caught … only to hope and wish with every cell in my body to stay held by him, close to him, with him. I am so very head-over-heels in love with him. In my life, I had no idea anything, anything ever, could feel so wonderful.**

(William's heart soared as he listened to her words. From deep within his being, within his very essence, joy bubbled up. To be so in love, and to know she had felt the same way as he, only added fuel to the fire. He had been right, he had always been right – she was the one for him).

She read the next entry:

 **He said he regretted not telling me sooner – about his feelings for me. Is it possible to be any happier? My instincts though, his instincts … our instincts, seem to tell us to slow down. I have to remember that the absinthe might have – probably did have, a great deal to do with what we did … what we** _ **almost**_ **did. William seems back to being quite in control of his urges. Oh but, now I know, I know down in my bones and in my very soul, that he wants me the way, and as much as, I want him. My God, there it is again, the feeling, the lovely, lovely feeling, of sinking and floating and spinning all at once. And my mind still replays it – that kiss, those kisses, that night.**

 **I have to laugh at myself, for I now carry prophylactics with me. I do wonder what would have happened if I had one with me that night? Perhaps he would have regretted it. Actually, I think it is very likely he might have, having lowered his standards, making it hard for him to live with himself. He might have felt forced into proposing marriage. I guess the way it happened was for the best … and if we do ever give ourselves another chance, well then, it is much less likely to be something he would regret, is it not? I wonder if he carries a prophylactic with him now? I hope so, that at least part of him hopes for another chance … The magic is still there when we are together. I guess only time will tell.**

She closed the journal and placed it to the side, resting her head in its place on his chest. She said, "Who would have thought it would be that much time?"

"Agreed," he quickly answered, his eyes dark and aroused, his voice dry and enchanting. He rolled her over onto her back and told her, "Way too much time," as he tucked her deeper under him and took her in a kiss.

The way his breath blasted out of his nostrils, hot, powerful and rushed, sent warm ripples through her, seemed to hone in on her womb, twisting it into desperate knots of desire. She wanted to break Isaac's rule. She wanted him inside of her, deep inside of her … strong, and rough. Her back surged into an arch, and she heard it from outside of herself, muffled within their kiss … her moan. She tried to get further under him, to get him on top of her, feeling her big belly block her progress, but being lustfully catapulted over the edge as her thigh pressed against him, feeling his swollen, powerful want for her, provoking her to moan again.

He broke off the kiss. Pulled away sharply. He sat up, leaving her lying there … flat, with only the cold air to replace his warmth and his weight. He reached up and rubbed his forehead as his chest heaved and his ears pounded inside his head.

She dropped her head back, fell limp and heavy into the blankets with disappointment. Of course he was right. He was always the stronger one. She waited, waited for the need to pass.

He blew air out through pursed lips, working to cope with the feelings. He needed to slow his heart … to stop the room from spinning. He needed to regain control. He cleared his throat and said, "I was thinking … Perhaps you would enjoy a foot-rub…"

The question threw her off – she was not expecting it. She took a deep breath. " _Relatively safe_ ," she thought. She found she needed to clear her throat as well, before she replied, "That would be lovely, William."

William gathered up some supplies – lotion, a bowl of hot water, and some face towels. First, he covered her foot with a warm towel, rubbing through the humid cloth. Then he used the lotion, paying focused attention to each joint in her foot, lovingly massaging her – first one foot, then the other.

The feelings were exquisite and soon a deep contentment soothed her soul. "I'm a little cold," she said, communicating with him from the other side of her trance. She opened her eyes as he crawled up to kneel next to her and began to unbutton his pajama top. "Zing! It began to shoot through her again – surging air out of her, leaving her spinning with the lack of oxygen. " _The man is so gorgeous_ ," she thought, mesmerized by the sight of his hands as they shifted further and further down the delicious row of buttons, parting the fabric in their wake, revealing his skin.

He chuckled. Her reaction had not gone unnoticed. He covered her naked body with his pajama top, so toasty and soft on her skin, and went back to work on her feet.

Slowly his strong, attentive hands moved up her calf. He found himself becoming aroused with the firm but supple feel of her curvy flesh in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her, on the inside of her thigh, just above the knee. Oh, it had an effect. Sparks surged through her, igniting the flame into a fire. She spread her legs wider, inviting him. His hot breath flooding over the inside of her thigh as he moved up, firmly put his hands on her thighs and pushed them even further apart. Oh how her womb flipped over with the touch. "William, Oh my God William," she whispered, her weak voice luring him closer.

Another kiss … He was closer. Oh, her moan was devastating when his next kiss brushed his hair across her. "William please!" the words barreled out of her – out of her control. "Oh my God please William," she pleaded, drawing him further up the inside of her thigh – closer. His teeth, taking a hold of the flesh of her inner thigh, his tongue so silky within his bite … and the sucking pulling her insides out, tormented with need, she moaned again, and her back arched decreasing the distance even more. She shifted, lowered herself, placing the forbidden, irresistible fruit right in front of him. She plummeted with the sound, the feel, of his deep inhalation as he took in her scent, the pleasure of it causing him to moan. Oh, that did it … She was wild with lustful abandon. "William please… Please … Please William," she begged.

And the world turned over – the heat of his mouth covering her. It would come – she knew it would come … His velvety tongue firmly taking control of her. She was totally helpless now. She was his.

Her urgent moans and tortured, defenseless cries drove him wild. "Too fast William. Too fast. Wait for her … That's it. Slow for now …" he coached himself as he pushed into her, pushed into her, pushed into her, finding her rhythm – magnifying it. Then, suddenly, there was a pause …

She felt it begin. Nothing could stop it now. She knew it would be big… " _Oh my God_ ," when it hit, rolling through her. Wave after wave rolling through her. The delicious, delicious heat tingled outward, engulfing her. She would pump for more. It would be impossible to get enough. "Mmm," her lusty voice basked. "Mmm," she savored the luscious feelings once more. " _Oh so lovely_ ," she thought, grateful the feeling was still there, reveling in the last drop before it would be gone.

William never did read his journal to Julia that night. Never told her that he started saving up, that very moment of their first kiss, for a wedding ring for her. He never told her that a part of him wished with all his might for another chance – giving him no choice but to tuck a prophylactic deep into a hidden crevice in his wallet, just in case.

He did tell her, however, that now that he knew how noisy she was, he was glad they didn't try it back then all those years ago – in that quite _public_ park. They laughed together, and blushed together, thinking of Mrs. Wilmont and her bird, Charlie, just below them. When Julia tried to apologize for her lack of control and loud enthusiasm, William confided in her, "Julia, you should know, I love it. The sound resonates deep in my soul, calls me to you, wildly, uncontrollably. It is my favorite sound in the whole wide world. Truly, from every cell in my body I tell you – no noise complaints."


	14. The Meteorological Theory of Lovemaking

Meteorological Theory of Lovemaking

The second time she picked up the phone receiver, Julia got up the nerve to dial. It was too late to call, but her concern – fear really – overpowered her desire to maintain propriety. Margaret Brackenreid answered the phone, and to Julia's relief, the woman did not seem to be sleepy or put-out by the late phone call. As a matter of fact, Margaret was very animated as she pushed for Julia to let her throw her a Baby Shower. She already had most of the plans laid out, only needing to confirm the date and time (this coming Saturday at 2 PM), the location (at Julia and William's new house), and she needed a list of the women Julia wanted her to invite. Quickly, Julia determined that it would take more time to resist than to give in, and time was of the essence right now. Believing she had given Margaret everything she wanted, Julia asked, "Actually Margaret, I called to talk to the Inspector. Is he home?" She consciously was working to sound calm.

Inspector Brackenreid had been standing next to his wife for most of their conversation, and Julia heard him say, "I told you Margaret," before she heard his gruff voice speak into the phone. "What can I do for you doctor?" he asked. She explained that William was not home yet and she had called the stationhouse and he was not there either. She was wondering if the Inspector knew where he was.

He felt that familiar pang of fear bolt through him, bringing his heart to race and his mind to become dangerously foggy. He fought against it, both because it only inhibited his ability to think rationally, and because the man's very pregnant wife was listening, very perceptively, to his reaction. "Well doctor I would have expected him to be back by now. Murdoch had a clue he was looking into, an address he wanted to investigate … and he specifically asked for a constable to go with him in the interest of safety... (Murdoch had spoken to Inspector about Julia's concern about losing him, particularly now that they were going to be parents. He had confided that she seemed acutely dependent on him lately). He cleared his throat, stalling for time and continued, "I sent him with Constable Jackson."

"Oh … I see," Julia said into the phone, her fear now creeping up, coming to border on panic. "When was this?" she asked, the squeak in her voice betraying her state.

He did not answer right away; it had been early afternoon, and the address was not far from the station. They had ridden their bicycles to the scene. "Now doctor," the older man, who had walked her down the aisle to William on their wedding day, tried to reassure her, "Your husband knows how to handle himself … And Jackson is a big, strapping guy. Try not to worry yourself."

Oh, how she was trying…

He told her, "I'll call over to the stationhouse as soon as we hang up and have some constables head over to the address straightaway … And I'll head over there myself." He hung up the phone and made the call. Two constables were already on their way. Unfortunately, he knew something was terribly wrong after he called Jackson's home and his wife said Jackson was not home yet either. He called to the stationhouse again and told them to send two more constables and to break out the armory. Then he hurried out the door himself.

Trying to cope with the dread and the helplessness, Julia sat on the couch, fighting the nausea and the spinning panic in her head. She heard her own voice in her mind, squeaky and stressed, " _Life without you William is worse than death._ " She remembered the sight of him then, her eyes sore with the need of it, having recently turned down his marriage proposal and broken both of their hearts. " _It was true then and it was true now,"_ she thought. Her hand embraced her belly, held their baby. But things were different now. With a sigh, she decided to read her journal. She had coped then, she could cope now.

She sat with her journal in her lap. There were so many times she had almost lost him … When she was locked in the Don Jail and he hadn't come to see her, the day before she would be hung, she knew something was wrong. And then Emily had told her he was missing. Somehow the thought of him being killed upset her even more than the thought of being hung herself. And when he jumped off of the bridge into a shallow river after James Gillies, only to be found unconscious, his battered body caught up on the log that had saved his life. And when he went missing and ended up in Bristol, Anna Fulford saving his life then. And when he had been taken hostage with Prince Alfred, by the Irish rebels, one of whom was even William's friend, who subsequently killed himself running back into the fire. And when she heard that Sally Pendrick's microwave death ray had been fired at him. It had even magnified his badge, supplied destiny's clue to them that they were meant to be together, when her heart pendant clung to his badge with a metallic click, as she tried to leave him, did leave him, for Buffalo.

She found her journal entry from after he had nearly drowned on the maiden voyage of the Keewatin, after the owner bombed his own ship. It was she who saved him then. Immediately, guilt and emergency plunged through her. Perhaps she should save him now, but she was so unable, not knowing where he was, so limited by her very pregnant state. No, she would have to trust in others to save him this time. She read:

 **My instincts already knew it, but the sight of his hat floating in the water … Oh my God, my world spun out of control. I could not breathe, would not be able to breathe, without him. I felt the cold water around me before I even registered seeing his lifeless body, floating and trapped, under it … felt the frigid weight of it above me before I knew I had decided to dive into it … felt the chilly danger of its all-encompassing fluidity surround me before I considered trying to save him. There has never been a time in my life that I felt so desperate. I could think of nothing else but getting his head above water, and then getting him out of the water… And then he was just lying there, not breathing … dead … gone … The thoughts flooded through me in a deluge; I would never hear his voice again. I would never see those big, warm, brown eyes looking into mine and sending my world into a frenzy with their gaze, not ever again. Never again would his laugh bring a smile to my lips, nor would his mysterious Chinese scent ignite my desire. I could not breathe, my head rung with terror and …**

 **How my mind produced it I don't know? – the thought, the image really, of a doctor in his white coat laying his lips over those of a motionless infant and breathing life into it! Adrenalin drove me so powerfully, that once again, there was no conscious decision. I suddenly just felt my lips sealed to his and my lungs pushing with extra force to flood his chest with air. I almost feinted away with relief when he coughed. I was so dizzy, felt the floor rising up to my impossibly heavy body, threatening to cloak me in darkness. At the time I was only aware that his voice pulled me back. I knew that he truly was alright, when he said, "I've lost my hat?" Now I realize what a strange, and truly hilarious thing that was for him to say – as if he had no idea of the danger he had just been in, as if he did not know that he had just died, that he had lay there before me with no breath and no pulse… He really does love that hat…**

She closed the journal with a chuckle. She prayed to William's God that he and his hat would be alright. She remembered that he had "died" before, when working on a case involving Emily, and a group of scientists who experimented with what happens when you die. It was because of this that she even knew that William had a journal – that they even started the tradition of sharing their journals in the first place. Deciding a shower would do her good; she took a hot one, drank a small sleeping draft, and crawled into bed. She spoke out loud to their baby, telling the unborn infant stories about its parents and what a miracle it was that such a child would ever grace their lives – about how very, very loved the little baby was. Unaware, she must have drifted off to sleep. Quite a while later, she had a dream…

 **She saw William as a child, playing near the shore of a lake or a river. He was so beautiful, those big eyes of his filled with the wonder and awe he still seemed to feel with the world. Her heart began to race as she watched the young boy discover his mother's dead body floating just under the water. Young William rushed to try to save her – dove into the water…**

 **Suddenly, the lake or river became ocean water, trapped within the sinking hull of the ship. His hat bobbed on the surface of the water – telling her, alerting her, to the danger – and then she saw that it was William's adult body that floated under the water rather than that of his mother, lifeless, still, but for the riding of the ripples of the small waves within the ship's bowels. Julia discovered her magical powers once she was under the water, being able to swim like a mermaid and hold her breath like a dolphin. She got to him quickly, freed his body from the clutches of a heavy trunk, and brought his body to the surface, hearing her own desperate intake of air only to be plunged into dread when he did imitate the sound. Suddenly she was so weak with despair, with the dizziness of helpless panic. Thank God the Inspector showed up – helped pull William's limp, heavy body from the sea water. Just as suddenly, the Inspector was gone, she was alone with William while the water rose, lapping at their heels.**

 **He was motionless, deeply motionless – no beating heart, not breathing. William was gone, and the ship was sinking. Soon she would die as well. Anger, it was anger. She was furious at fate to end it this way. They had been through so much to be together … She knew they were meant to be together. She heard her own raging voice scream it inside her head, "** _ **IT COULD NOT END THIS WAY!**_ **" Her arm twitched with the vision of punching him with all her might in his chest – furious at him for dying, for leaving her. Then she thought of it – the way to save him.**

 **Suddenly she was a doctor in a hospital, wearing her white coat and stethoscope. She had saved newborns this way, and she would save him this way now. She did pound on his chest, but not in anger but rather with purpose, and then she breathed her own air deeply into his lungs, optimism soaring through her at the sight of his chest expanding with her efforts. Heaven came down to earth when he coughed. The cough was violent and wretched, and surely painful for him, as he breathed in his own oxygen for the first time. Reminding herself that they weren't out of the woods yet, that they were deep inside the gut of a ship that was sinking, she wondered if he would be able to walk – to run. They needed to escape.**

 **The sound of his voice sparked a symphonic burst of joy in her heart. "Where's my hat?" he had asked, sounding dazed and confused. She remembered seeing it in the water. She turned back to look for it, the treasured homburg. Behind them, on the other side of the river, she saw it … in the hands of a beautiful William-eyed toddler who giggled delightfully as he played with his Daddy's hat. Oh, how her heart filled with love for this baby, her baby, their baby. Suddenly, a lightning bolt of panic electrified through her – she had been distracted! "** _ **They were in a sinking ship! William!**_ **" She turned back and her eyes searched the empty ramp, now barren and cold. William was gone, completely gone. Sobs overtook her, throwing her body into spasms of grief and despair …**

… Waking her… It must have been two or three in the morning when she awoke from the bad dream. Immediately though, she felt it, the familiar warm, comfortable, contented feeling, knowing he was there before she had any real proof – before she heard him breathing, before she consciously determined that his side of the mattress was lower, before her eyes adjusted enough to the slightly moonlit room to see the outline of his body lying next to her. The contradiction, between complete panic and guaranteed relief, surged her stomach into nausea. Her heart was pounding and her head was spinning, with her ears playing an endless, high-pitched note that seemed to make reasoning virtually impossible. She was on the verge of tears – that part felt like relief. She slid out bed and went downstairs. She would go to the kitchen – make some hot chocolate. Feeling the cold wooden floors under her bare feet, helping to ground her, she talked to herself, " _He's fine. He's right there in the bed sleeping. You need to get a hold of yourself,"_ she self-soothed. The hot chocolate would be calming.

She stood at the stove stirring the pan of hot chocolate, with her back to the kitchen entrance, when William came in behind her. Not wanting to startle her, he cleared his throat before he walked over and added some milk and chocolate to the pan. She sighed and took a sideways glance at him. She noticed a cut on his lower lip, it was pretty bad. She wondered what other injuries he had, under his pajamas, tucked away out of sight. Frozen in silence, in between wanting to leap into his arms with joy and wanting to smack him for frightening her so, she went and sat at the kitchen table, with her back to him, while he stirred their hot chocolate.

She watched him in the window reflection, still stuck, unable to speak, unable to find words. She saw him reach up into the cupboard and bring down two cups… But at the same time her mind ran an old memory, from when he had gone missing, for such a long, long time, without any word, without a clue – he had ended up in Bristol, all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, had lost his memory, and in true Murdoch fashion, he had even saved the Queen. Sitting here now, it felt so real, like a hallucination more than a memory. She was sitting at her desk in the morgue, staring into the window that looked out over the autopsy theatre. Like now, she could see herself in the window – but she could also see him – see him tip his hat to her, see him standing and writing on the chalkboard with his hand in his pocket, see him when he kissed her on the picnic blanket, even hear him laugh. The flashes of him were so beautiful, so sweet, they caused her heart to soar with love, while at the very same time pangs of soreness from what seemed to be the inevitable loss of him, stirred in her chest. How did she ever survive it then?...

Suddenly, beckoning her out of the trance, he was standing next to her, the warm, white cup breaking the silence as he placed it on the table in front of her. He sat at the end of table, in the chair just around the corner from her. Watching, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him raise the cup to his lips, take a slow, warm sip. She felt his eyes on her. Dropping her eyes down, she focused on the hot chocolate, taking a sip for herself. A soothing sense of gratitude sank into her as the warm, smooth feel of the thick liquid washed away some of her fear. She swallowed, forcing it down, steaming it away. Her big sigh broke the quiet, making a first step to connecting with him.

His voice was tender when he said it, "I'm sorry, Julia."

But his effort to take responsibility for her suffering surged regret through her, causing her to choke up, her eyes becoming hot and swollen with tears. She knew she couldn't let him do it – He had done nothing wrong. She knew who she had married. A tear escaped, slid down her face, for such suffering was inevitable, unavoidable – came with their love, was destined.

The sight of the glistening liquid pearling and flowing down her cheek tortured his heart. The pain pushed him to build up a defense against it, a spark of anger and indignation surprised him with his thoughts, " _What does she want me to do? Quit my job? Become an accountant?"_ his brain argued.

She took another sip of hot chocolate, using it to clear her throat, and said, "You have nothing to be sorry about William…"she offered, certain she saw his chest heave with relief out of the corner of her eye. She lifted her eyes, caught the sight of him, his cup to his lips, his beautiful eyes glancing at her sideways, through their dark, long lashes, offering hope, hinting at playfulness even when the mood seemed so dire. She marveled at the power that this particular look of his had over her body, somehow sending her womb, her heart, and her brain into a whirlwind. So quickly the tears had gone. She went on to explain, "The Inspector told me you expressed concern for safety … That, because of me and our child, you had wanted to bring along a constable…"

William took a deep breath, twisted his face a bit with doubt and regret and said, "Yeah, nearly got _**two**_ people ki…" He abruptly stopped, his eyes betraying his concern over saying it, over telling her how close it had really come.

She saw it though. She knew. They both dropped their eyes away from each other quickly. Silence loomed momentarily, disturbed only by the sipping of hot chocolate and the placing back down of the cups.

Julia broke it first. She inhaled deeply, drawing his attention, and she slid her chair over closer to his. Moving the two cups out of the way, she placed them on the nearby counter. She reached up and fiddled with the collar on his pajama top, creating a stir in him, sending his eyes into a sparkle. With her eyes down on the boundary between his skin and the red fabric, watching her fingers slip dangerously along the edge, she started, "Detective William Henry Murdoch…" Her eyes lifted to meet his. The connection was strong, flirtatious. She unbuttoned the top button, sending a lustful jolt of electrical urges down to his groin. "I fell in love with _**all**_ of you – the whole package … including the _**detective**_ part," she said, then with a shrug she added, "And I think the detective part is very sexy, really … a hero who fights the harshest elements to save people…" Her fingers moved up, slipped into his hair, scratched enticingly along his scalp, "I fell quite hard … head-over-heels … I still am, madly in love with this man … this detective," she said with her eyes honing in on his mouth. She tilted her head, brought her lips close.

There they were, flickering and flashing across his mind, the urgent, demanding, fantasies … of what to do with her, where to put her, what to take off of her, and what to leave on. They were particularly strong tonight –rushed, insistent – not uncommon after having faced death. He imagined laying her down on the kitchen table, pulling off her bloomers, dropping his own pajama bottoms, penetrating her slowly, but oh so fiercely, the rupture forcing her to yield, to moan – his thoughts weakening his knees and stealing his breath.

Their kiss was passionate, ravenous, the metallic taste and the sting from the cut on his mouth soon forgotten as the fire grew. William stood up, pulling Julia up to her feet with him. Her world spun and flipped ever so deliciously as he lifted her from the waist, twirled her around and backed her into the wall with a thud. His kiss invaded her, pumped deeply into her, evoking a moan. She grew heavy as the force of gravity overpowered her. His need for her pressed into her, firm and solid, against her enlarged belly. She reached down for the string of his pajama bottoms, found it and pulled…

Wham!

It hit them both at the same time, the realization that they would _**not**_ do what they were each fantasizing about, imagining…planning. There would be no penetration, she was pregnant and such a risk was to be avoided at all costs. William exhaled his disappointment, his hot, sultry breath flooding down her neck, enveloping her shoulder, as their kiss broke off, and he stepped back the tiniest amount, just enough to lower the tension between them to tolerable levels. He reached down to retie the string. He felt her breath on his ear as she leaned in to him and said, "Oh my God, William. I miss it so," the frustration and yearning palpable in her voice, her tone seeming to threaten falling into tears.

He found her wrists, guided them upwards to wrap her arms around his neck and whispered seductively to her, "Hold on tight doctor." Thrill bolted through him, sufficient to push him past the intense pain to his injured shoulder, as she jumped into his arms, squeezed him snuggly, and brought her legs into a knot around his waist. Taking a firm hold, he pulled her away from the wall, spun her around, the centrifugal force of the pivot melting and swirling her brain and flying her blond curls.

Only two steps before she felt the rigid, cold surface of the kitchen table under her. He lay her back, seeming out of control with need as he tugged at her nightgown, raising it above her waist, and then he hurriedly pulled down her bloomers. He placed one of his knees on the chair and she brought her knees up over his shoulders, placing him securely between her thighs. Her humid smell flooded his senses. He was going to have his way with her; she was helpless, defenseless before him. He would take her, drive her over the edge.

Her mind twisted and fell, the lovely feeling so focused, and yet so dazed, with anticipation – with painful, wrenching lust. Her voice begged, weak and dry with breathless eagerness, "William please…Oh my God – Please William," she cried.

Coaching himself to slow down, to tease her, he placed his mouth, not where she so wanted it, but on the inside of her thigh, sucking the supple flesh up into his mouth. Her response was immediate – she arched roughly, then she bent her knees tighter around his shoulders, sliding her sweet, mouthwatering fruit tantalizingly closer to him, pulling him down, luring him in. Impatience flooded through him. Heat exploded out of his nostrils. Billowing, calling for indulgence, he released the red, burning skin of her thigh. He parted her with his fingers, tenderly opened her.

She felt his breath announcing his imminent approach, surging a moan from her throat. " _He's going to_ …" the thought swirled away as his warm, lusciously soft, slippery mouth covered her, erupting heat throughout her whole body and wringing her womb into a tormented, scrumptious knot. "Oh my God William…" her breath blasted, rushed, as dizziness flooded through her pumping veins. "Please William, Oh please," she pleaded, wanting more, much, much more, and her fingers found the edges of the table and clutched them with all of her might.

William took hold of her hips, hard and tight, holding her captive against his motion, his rhythm, as he penetrated her very being, perfectly, his waves of passion flooding over her, into her, over, and over, again and again. She felt it building, the tension reaching unbearable levels. It would burst soon. "Oh yes," she cried out, her face wrinkled with the excruciating pleasure of it. Magnificently within reach, she strove, growing more and more desperate with the need to … have him … touch her … " _Oh my God,_ " in that … one … perfect … spot. Finally, her world tilted over the edge. The delicious eruption gushed, pouring hot, melty, ecstasy through every cell in her body, tingling her toes and filling her womb with blissful delight.

All was still now, yet somehow he knew it, she was crying. He crawled up on the table, carefully, testing the sturdy piece of furniture's ability to hold the load of both of them. He laid his chest over hers and pulled a leg up over her thighs, leaving her belly, their baby, free of the pressure of his weight. His face nestled down into her neck, where he lovingly kissed and nibbled. "Shh," his voice comforted. She would want him close until the tears subsided. "I love you Julia," he whispered in her ear, the acknowledgement flooding her with emotion, prompting her crying to grow stronger as her body suffered the torrents of her love for him, her need for him, and her certain devastation with the thought of the loss of him. She was not sure she could survive it. He slid his arms under her shoulders and hugged her tight, waiting with her, soothing her, caring for her.

A few moments later, he kissed away her last tear, and rolled onto his back. Settling in, with her head on his shoulder, she commented on her wise decision to spend a little extra money and buy the best kitchen table the store had to offer.

"Very wise," he had agreed.

"Shall we test it further?" she asked seductively as her hand slid down to cup him through his pajama bottoms. Her fingers traced the seam of the convenience flap in the front, riding the boundary between in and out.

Oh, it happened so quickly, before her fingers even touched him, before his skin felt her warmth, his arousal bolted upright. His instincts were to grab control of it right away, the threat, the danger, pounding in his head and his groin, portending a complete loss of control. He stopped her, taking a gentle hold of her forearm. Needing to say something to delay, to garner a moment with which to regain control, he said, "We need to turn off the light..."

His statement prompted a mischievous smack in the chest from his wife. "Oh!" she declared, "I see. It was fine to have the lights on while I was opened up wide for all the world to see, but not you… No, not William Henry Murdoch," she teased.

She reveled in his discomfort as he swallowed and frantically tried to find something to say. "I didn't notice then is all," he answered somewhat sheepishly.

He got up and turned out the light. The moon was brighter on this side of the house, and he noticed she looked quite beautiful in its white, luminous glow as she stood with her back to the wall, where only a little while ago they both nearly given into their desires to make love, passionately, deeply, and _**together**_ as they had so many times before, but now found they could only long for the chance to do it again. He stepped close. She glided her hands along his chest; her fingers teased his nipples through the cloth of his pajamas. They kissed, the urgency growing exponentially. She felt his desire building, pressing harder and harder against her. Her lips released his and trailed down his neck. He knew where she was headed, the anticipation spinning him into a wild dizziness, tortured and stretched between imploding and exploding, he could do nothing but fall.

His pajama bottoms were down now. Her breath … " _Oh my God_ ," her fingers. There wasn't enough air. There would never ever be enough air – the altitude was too high – way, way, way too high. William leaned forward over her, pressing his chest into the wall as she kneeled between his legs. Julia tilted her head forward, and slowly, smoothly, deliberately, took him into her warm, succulent mouth. His moan tugged the soul out of her, its pleasure and desperation calling for her wildest, most animalistic nature, pulling it out of each cell, tempting it to him.

He filled her, felt the back of her throat resist him, " _So delicious_ ," the thought ran and swirled through his brain. He thrust, pushing the back of her head firmly against the wall, trapping her and melting his insides with fiery delight. Lust took him, crazed him with the one essential need, the urgent need to touch her deeper. His thrusts grew in intensity. He felt her hands push against him, offering an opposing force. He drove harder. It was so close, " _Right there … That's it … Oh, yes! She is delicious, so, so delicious_ ," he thought as the forbidden pleasure became imminent. "Oh Julia," he declared when the wave of pleasure hit him, barreled him over with warmth and dizzying delight. "Mmm," he added as his thrusts slowed and stretched, pumping for every last drop he could touch, swim in.

His heart pounded against his chest, battered against the cold wall behind her. She rose, parting him from the solid surface, replacing it with her supple, warm flesh. "That was magnificent Julia," he said, his voice raspy and dry. He found her ear, his hurried breath rushing over it, and said, "Thank you… Oh my God …delicious."

Her lips glanced his ear and her voice plunged into his brain, still so seductive, as she replied, "It seems you have become quite fond of our Plan C, detective."

"I will not deny it," he replied with his chest heaving, still out of breath, but he noticed the spinning of the room was slowing. He leaned back, wanting to see her beautiful eyes. He watched as she, almost self-consciously, reached up and touched her upper lip. " _What is she_ ," the thought did not finish before he recognized it – it was blood. She was bleeding! The startled thought electrified through him. He had hurt her! He was too rough! Too selfish!

She could feel the cut on her upper lip was wet and sticky, and already swollen. Trying to lighten the mood, acutely aware that he would be flung towards guilt, she joked, "Now we are a matched set detective." His eyes were dark and wide as he struggled to assess the injury he had caused. The glisten of the moonlight off of those same, beautiful eyes hinted at tears. Oh, how she wanted to stop this.

She cleared her throat, lifted an eyebrow at him and said, "Oh come now, a little too rough? Perhaps. But my God William, you lit me up. I'm on fire." His confusion swelled as he felt her fingers taking hold of his pajama top button, popping it open and then moving on to the next one, popping it open too. "Do it again. Please," she whispered before she kissed him, diving her tongue into him and pushing him backwards into the kitchen table. She was very aroused, hungry and enticing. She lay down on the table, spread her legs, the sight of her slippery, wet folds in the moonlight tugging at him so. He lifted her nightgown as she pulled him closer with her legs wrapped around him, her scent wafted up, penetrated deeply into his brain, "Please once more," she asked. He obliged, happily.

Thoroughly exhausted, feeling loved through and through, they lay together on the table in the moon's luminous glow. "As far as Plan C goes, that was wonderful," Julia said.

She heard the air surge out of him as prepared to respond, felt his chest drop and then rise as he brought in the needed air. "Plan C at its best," he agreed. His voice revealing a tone of mystery he pondered aloud, "It's like scattered thunderstorms, one here, another there. Quite nice… But …"

Julia picked up the thought, referring to both, their shared love of thunderstorms – and particularly making love during them, but also to his train of thought on relating types of weather to types of making love. She declared, "Oh William, but I do so miss those gigantic thunderstorms, where the thunder rocks your house and the ozone in the air burns your nostrils, the electricity seems to awaken your soul, and the lightning passionately reveals secret aspects of the world – ever so flickeringly, ever so briefly." She lifted her head off of his chest, rested an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. Her eyes fought the darkness to find his.

Peering out of the corners of his eyes, the whites of his eyes so strongly contrasted against his dark irises and pupils, their eyes met. They were so close, she felt his breath flow over her as he replied, "We have been having to make do… with scattered showers instead of torrential thunderstorms, hmm?" his voice both soothing and exciting her as his fingers reached up, to twirl and twist a wayward loch of her hair, before tucking it back behind her ear. She nodded. She rested her head back down on his chest. He continued, elaborating on his analogy, "Actually, making love is like the weather in many ways… Sometimes it is slow, warm, tender and … scrumptiously long – that's like a warm front…Producing a steady, soaking rain …"

Julia's mind sparked, "Like when we use Chinese Ishinpō," she exclaimed.

"Mmm," he agreed, "Exactly – a big, long, delicious warm front. And those wild, hungry, rushed and rough times are like violent thunderstorms… And then there are the quick showers, that just come up on you sort of out of nowhere, sprinkle you with moisture and that wonderful rain smell, and then just as quickly they're gone…"

"It's like no rain storm is exactly the same – but there are types, hmm?" she said, once again looking to him.

He clamped his lips together and nodded, "The meteorological theory of lovemaking," he claimed with a proud puff of the chest and a chuckle.

"Yes, of course," she said. "So tonight was very thunderstorm-like, but we had to … hold back, for the baby. So we had, as you say, scattered thunderstorms instead. I see," she explained, returning her head to her favorite pillow. They stroked each other tenderly, listening only to their hearts, and their breathing, and their thoughts, for a time.

Julia broke the quietude. "I think it was so wild and passionate tonight because you were in danger earlier – because we almost lost you. It is so frightening to imagine it, to think of losing you … and I guess it makes being together so much more valuable when we are confronted with the ever so present, and real recognition, that life is fleeting. There is an urgent need to get as much love out of it as we can, while we can," she said as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him closer.

Eventually, back upstairs in bed, Julia told him that she hoped he had enjoyed their last night of lovemaking anywhere they wanted in the house for a while, for tomorrow night her sister Ruby would be arriving, and she had invited her to stay with them. As they had yet to furnish either of the servants' suites in their house, Ruby would be sleeping in a room down the hall. "Mm-hmm," William had acknowledged as sleep took him. Before Julia drifted off herself, she thought about how blessed, fortunate, grateful, and happy she was to have him with her, safe, and relatively well, the sound of his restful, deeper breathing soothing her fears, rocking her in comfort and contentment.

The next morning she saw the extent of his injuries and he told her the story of what had happened. He and Jackson went to investigate a lead at a slaughterhouse. They were attacked from behind, hit a few times, and then likely chloroformed. When he came to, he found himself in agonizing pain, the sharp severity of the throbbing in his shoulder threatening to plummet him back into unconsciousness. When he finally worked up the courage to move, knowing it would increase the pain, he realized the hopelessness of his plight. His body had been wrapped like a mummy from head to toe, in a cloth of some type and thick rope. He couldn't see, couldn't move his hands, or his arms, or his legs. He was hanging in the air, from a meat hook that had been pierced through the muscles in his shoulder, high up on a steam-powered overhead assembly, between two humungous pig carcasses. Fortunately, the cloth and rope bindings helped to hold much of his bodyweight, minimizing the ripping apart of his tissues. After making a sound, his mouth gagged, thus reducing the volume and stifling his ability to speak, he located Jackson, who was in a similar predicament, seeming to be a few carcasses behind him. He did not know what time it was, but he remembered seeing the machine he now hung from before they were attacked. He knew a worker would come in in the morning, turn the machine on, and it would jerk into motion, surging the pain where his body had been gouged, all of his weight dangling from the meat hook. The machine would eventually bring him to the rotary saw. It would clamp on to his feet and then slice him in half within a few seconds. The one saving grace was it would be over quickly.

The doctor at the hospital had said that the strength of the cloth and rope he had been wrapped in helped curtail the damage to his shoulder. He had needed many stitches, however, to be sewn back up, and he was terribly bruised and sore. Dr. Ogden checked the wound, being satisfied with the look of it. He was sure to thank his wife for her expert care.

Before William left for work, Julia reminded him that Ruby would be arriving tonight, and then she told him about the Baby Shower on Saturday. Surprising herself, she noticed the glee in her voice with the news. " _A Baby Shower!_!" she marveled in her head, childlike wonder and joy flooding through her, for she truly never thought such a thing would ever be.

He saw it – walked back from the door, coat and hat already on, and stood before her, their eyes locked. He tilted his head, lifted an eyebrow and repeated, "A Baby Shower?!"

"Quite something, is it not?" she asked as her eyes dropped down to her belly.

"It is," he replied. The joy in William's voice only added fire to the flames. He placed his hands on her enlarged belly, embracing their child, and said again, "It truly is."

When he lifted his eyes back up to meet hers, she melted with love for him. Shiny tears in his eyes, she knew how happy he was. The emotion was beyond contagious, and tears immediately filled her eyes as well. So quickly they built, slipping down her cheek, prompting him to cup her face, to lovingly wipe a tear away with his thumb, before leaning in and kissing the next one away after it. Their embrace was warm, soft, complete. Only with great effort did he break it off, bow to her, scrunching his lips together and wrinkling his face, showing his admission to the difficulty he was finding in leaving her. He turned and left. She felt his absence, and yet, she felt so very, very loved. With a sigh, she brought her thoughts to what was next. She would prepare for Ruby, and the shower. There were phone calls to make, quite a lot to do. She had best get to it. And she was still working on making purchases for the baby, a crib, a pram, diapers, and more. William had already started on making what he called baby bouncers. She was so excited, and still admittedly, a little scared.

Before Ruby arrived, William called and said he would be late. Ultimately, both she and Ruby would have gone to bed before he would get home, and he would softly wake his wife with a cozy snuggle so she would know he was home and he was safe. Before that, as expected, she and Ruby had a wonderful time catching up with each other's lives. No one else in the world, except for William and Isaac, really understood how unlikely it was that Julia would ever be expecting a baby, would be celebrating the imminent arrival of _her_ child. And, although Isaac may have had an _idea_ about some of the ups and downs she and William had been through as a result of Julia's abortion, and even more so due to its subsequent, and in actuality, wrongfully reported, result in her sterility, it was only William and Ruby that truly understood this. Thus, it was only with him and her sister that she would truly be able to celebrate their little miracle with to the full extent.

Of course, Ruby was Ruby, and she would also have to endure the endless teasing and digging that her sister was famous for. The last time she had visited, she had coerced Julia into kissing and telling, convincing her to share about the amazing enjoyment that she and William had found in the bedroom – and elsewhere, it turns out. Making matters worse (Julia scolded herself for she certainly should have known it would turn out this way), Ruby had told William what Julia had said about their amorous life together, down to the details about William's exceptional " _skills._ " Julia planned to play it closer to the vest this time.

Dining together in William and Julia's wonderful new home, indulging in a delicious meal cooked by Eloise (William and Julia's cook and housekeeper), both Julia and Ruby partaking in abundant wine as well, Julia let her guard down. Ruby had confided in Julia about her latest sexual liaison, in much detail. Playing her older sister role, Julia had tried to encourage Ruby to consider the values in finding _one_ man to love. Ruby straightened her skirt and replied, "I _do_ love only one man – _at a time…_ (She lifted her eyes and held her sister's gaze tight and direct) … I am quite happy that way. Really, don't be such a prude Jules." Her expression showed the strength of her convictions. Such taunts always served Ruby well. She knew where every chink in Julia's armor was, and Julia's desire to be seen as a modern woman was one of them she used to her advantage often.

Julia's only reply was a, "Humph."

Ruby continued, "Just because you are satisfied with one man … You are satisfied with William, aren't you?" she leaned forward with her query.

Julia would fail to hide it, her throat growing dry, she fought the urge to swallow, but her voice failed her anyway when she tried to speak, starting as a crack and then a squeak, "Of course …"

Ruby moved in to strike, raising an eyebrow at her sister, she added, "Perhaps quite a bit more than satisfied … hmm Jules?" Julia looked down at her dinner; she still did not have to tell Ruby. There was no need to confirm her sister's suspicions.

Choosing a different tact, Ruby leaned back and turned her own attention back to her lasagna. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry Jules. I had so hoped, especially after my last visit, having learned how truly magnificent your love-life was with William, well I had hoped that things wouldn't change between you two, that the passage of time … and your pregnancy, well, uh, I had so hoped you would still be enjoying each other as much as you used to.

The corner of Julia's mouth curled up as she thought, " _She has no idea how much we still lust for each other, and please each other, and suffer with waiting until we can get back to making love like we used to. She has no idea._ "

But that little upwards curve of her sister's lips did not go unnoticed by Ruby, and as a result, she had a very good idea of the power of the romance that still burned between her sister and the man she had married, against all odds. Now certain, she would need to play it right. She maneuvered, "I must say, I believe you have helped me prove my point. If the spark between you and William could go out, then I am certain there is no _**one**_ man out there that could keep me interested."

" _I have her now!_ " Julia thought. "Well that's where you would be wrong. The "spark," as you call it, between William and I is amazing. He still brings me to my knees, takes my breath away – nearly every day, his touch, the feel of him against me, the sound of his breath in my ear, or the warmth of it on …" she said, stopping abruptly as she realized she was getting too personal, too descriptive. And then she saw the look in Ruby's eye, such excitement, seemingly mixed with joy, likely both due to Ruby's glee with her sister's happiness, but also because she had been right. Her mind raced, trying to choose one of the myriad of thoughts spinning around in her head to say out loud, ending up merely staring at her sister with her jaw hanging down, mouth wide-opened.

Ruby leaned in close to Julia and whispered, "It sounds to me like you are significantly more than still satisfied with William."

Julia took a deep breath and accepted defeat. She gave her sister a quick smile. "You tricked me," she declared plainly, holding firmly to Ruby's blue eyes. She looked back down at her plate, marveled in the bubbling up of joy in her chest. She did want her to know. She did want to tell her about their marvelous love.

"So, tell me everything," Ruby's voice tempted her.

Being more than she could take, she did. "Oh Ruby," she started, a sense of awe and wonder in her voice. Julia grabbed her sister's eyes and leaned as close to her as possible, the magic of a secret filling the air between them. "It was so hard, when we were not yet married, to resist. I remember that back then my only release was through dreams, wonderful, wonderful dreams. But now … now it is so much harder than then," she disclosed.

Ruby's eyes were wide and dark with intrigue. "Oh? Are you and William not …" she asked.

Julia explained that Dr. Tash had advised them to avoid having Julia experience much in the way of muscular effort in her womb, and so they had both decided to abstain from lovemaking. They resisted, and it worked, but it turned out that they both had these … lucid dreams. And, well at one point she had thought that since her womb was … um, well contracting anyway, during the dreams, well, why not have it contract with him. They could not have intercourse, they both knew that. It would be too stressful on her cervix, and on her uterus, thus threatening the baby, but there were … other ways to pleasure each other. And pleasure each other they did indeed!

This news managed to shock Ruby, even if it was just a little bit, for she had a great deal of trouble envisioning the buttoned-down detective doing such things. "You mean you and William …" she asked.

Julia nodded, lifting her eyebrows and exaggerating her glee. "Lots," she said.

"Oh my," Ruby declared.

Julia leaned back, dug in to her meal with enthusiasm as she went on, "It's like he cherishes every inch of me, every aspect of me, all of me, through and through. And other times, he loses control, wants me so badly that he is driven wild with the need to make love to me. Oh my God Ruby, it makes me so weak, so desperate for him. I truly never believed I could be so happy, ever. It is lovely, but still… We know what we are missing now. The need to, um, well to make love like we used to, is very powerful. I guess it's just one more reason I wish this baby would be born soon." With that, Ruby asked Julia to describe the surgery she would undergo to deliver the baby, which Julia did in great detail.

She told her sister about the angst she and William had been through making their decision about whether or not to risk Julia's wife to have the baby. The surgery, a transverse cesarean section, would be necessary, whether or not the baby survived, once Julia entered her fifth month of pregnancy, due to the size of the fetus – by then it would be too large to fit through her scarred cervix. Isaac had been making sure to stay in town since then, to be sure to be around if she miscarried and he would need to rush to the hospital to perform the surgery. He really was a dedicated friend and brilliant doctor.

Julia added intrigue into the story, reminding Ruby about the turmoil from a long time ago, when William had struggled with the decision about whether or not to arrest Isaac for performing abortions – and how the relationship between the two men had remained strained ever since then. She told her how ironic and impressive it was that the same man, her beloved William, who had clung so strongly to his moral and religious beliefs at first, would later find himself asking the same two people who had suffered the most with the potential consequences of his earlier decisions, herself and Isaac, to perform an abortion on his own wife – to abort his own baby. It was really quite amazing. Thank goodness for science, for doctors working to improve lives, and coming up with better ways to perform cesareans – amazingly, just in time for her, for them.

Later that evening, Julia got Ruby settled into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Tucked into her own bed, still waiting for William to get home, she fell asleep balancing two competing thoughts, the one typical of when William was out late, she worked on finding ways to cope with the fear that she would lose him, and the other she reminded herself that she would need to try to stifle her passionate cries when William pleasured her now that Ruby was within hearing distance. It turned out that she had only minimal success with either, waking from a bad dream in which William was gone that very night, and, well, she was pretty sure her sister had heard her multiple cries and moans of delight when she and William experienced their "scattered thunderstorms," although Ruby never really let on about overhearing them, much to her, and William's, relief.

On Saturday morning, William awoke already quite aroused from a dream. He kissed Julia awake as well. Her voice still scratchy from sleep, she reacted to his obvious urgency as she felt his firm, solid flesh press against her backside, and she feigned surprise, exclaiming, "Oh my."

She rolled over to face him only to be hurled into a hungry kiss. As soon as she was released from his passionate kiss, she said, "I fear my husband has an emergency …" She looked into his chocolaty eyes and felt her insides melt as he slowly nodded his head. "Does he need me to save him?" she asked, being rewarded by his failed attempt to speak, as his voice had gone dry with desire and his brain dizzy with lustful spinning, leaving him with only the ability to nod again in order to answer. Seductively, she unbuttoned and removed his pajama top. Wanting to please him down to the bone, she kissed enticingly down his body, "Detective, you're on fire," she said between kisses, "You are burning up," more kisses. She hurriedly untied his pajama bottoms, thrill pumping through her with his need-filled moan. As she slid the clothing down, intentionally allowing it to snag on him, she was surprised to hear a moan of her own escape. "Oh William, the flames are so high," she said with the sight of him.

Before honing in on the spot that would make him moan, that would remind him that he was glad to be alive, she would give him a taste of his own medicine. Her mouth ravaged the inside of his thigh. Her muffled giggle teased the air as she felt his hands take hold of her head, his fingers wrap in and grab firmly into her hair, and he tried to guide her to the one perfect spot. She released his flesh and scattered light kisses upwards towards what she knew he most wanted. But then, mischievously, she switched over to his other leg to suck roughly on his other thigh.

"Julia please," he said with his voice between a tormented whisper and a rebel yell.

Oh, how she wallowed in it – the pleasure it brought to tease your lover to interminable exhaustion. "So hot, hmm?" she tantalized, as she once again kissed upwards, getting enticingly closer, and closer, to his swollen, burning, tight, need. "I do believe …" she kissed his skin, "the detective needs," she moved closer, now her golden lochs making contact, she was so close, this kiss dangerously near, "needs me to," another kiss, oh so near, anticipation driving him to moan and call out her name, "extinguish this fiery flame," her steamy breath now enveloping him in a warm cloud of _almost_.

Julia knew what he really, really wanted – to be on top of her, so she shifted her position, lying on her back diagonally across their marital bed, her head tucked up against his most desperate spot.

He was confused, but the feel of her head, her silky mane, pressed against him sent bolts of wild want deeper into his voracious ache. He rolled onto his side. She moved up, slid underneath him as he shifted over her. He hovered above her, holding his weight on his hands and knees, her head below his pelvis. "Come," her husky voice called, as she reached up to pull him down to her, encouraging him to cover her face. Her fingers slipped around him, guided him in.

Oh, the world seemed to rocket away from him with her slippery, warm touch. It spun so, boundaries swirled and thoughts plummeted and twirled away into the whirlwind. " _Easy_ ," he reminded himself as the urge to thrust into her took over. " _Oh my God_ ," he thought with the first stroke reaching the back of her throat. " _Oh this delicious, delicious woman … Oh my God, she is lovely_ ," the thoughts rocked and swayed as the power of his thrusts grew. "Julia," his voice croaked out. He was so close now. It was within reach. Deeper! Harder! Demandingly he pushed. " _Oh, I've got her. Yes… So lovely, so very, very lovely_ ," the igneous eruption started. His pumping stretched out, extended, as the gooey, volcanic magma flowed through him, fire meeting water, forcing his steamy moan, "Mmm," he released it, soaked it in, floated, and sank in its bliss.

Afterwards, as he recovered, she noticed him wince when she rested her head on his shoulder, having briefly forgotten about his stitches and his injury. "Sorry," she said. She adjusted her position, placing her head lower onto his chest and he hugged her tight as she listened to his pounding heartbeat and rode the waves of his still rapid breathing.

Their thoughts having been tugged by his wound, after a time William broke the peaceful silence. He described what it had been like to be hanging on the meat hook – speaking to God, not for himself, for he had accepted death – but thanking Him for bringing him her. "I asked God to take care of you Julia … and then I nearly fell apart. I worked so hard to control my sobbing because the shaking hurt my shoulder so badly, but I failed. I began to mourn never seeing our baby. I suffered with such regret, and guilt, that our child would never know how much he or she was loved by their father," William said, his emotion clearly strong with the pain of the memory. He took a deep breath, seeming to take in the scent of her hair and being soothed by it, he continued, "And I thought about so many things in my life. They say your life flashes before your eyes, and it does. I remembered, relived, so many, many moments … and Julia, almost all of them were when I was with you. I wanted God to know how grateful I was to have found you, and to have known you, and to have loved you, and to have been loved by you." He rolled her over onto her back. He fluttered kisses over her face, taking in the taste of her, inhaling her scent, convincing himself that she was right there with him, that she was his. He loved her more than any words could ever say. He wanted her to know the extent of his feelings – how she was everything to him.

He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her chin, her lips. He would kiss every inch of her, revel in her, worship her, savor every bit of her. Open every petal, caress the bottom of each leaf, be filled with her smell. He would slowly, warmly, deeply, bring her to ecstasy, bask in the melodious cries of her ultimate passion, knowing she too felt his love for her in every cell, every atom, down to her core, through her very soul. He showered her with a tender, loving, adoring "warm front," leaving her feeling delightfully limp, spent and deeply cared for.

They lie together for a time, naked, waiting for her body to float back down into alignment with the rest of the world. Once her breathing was cadenced with his, he told her he loved her one last time before he rolled onto his back and she felt the nippy, cold, December morning air replace his warmth. Remembering she wanted to read her journal to him, from when he had been missing and had lost his memory and ended up in Bristol, she rolled over to pull her journal out of the night table drawer and then rolled back next to him. The journal rested on the mattress between them, while she lay on her side with her elbow propped into the bed and her chin laid in her hand.

William was feeling very amorous again, having just been tempted by touching her, and by the way she moved, and by the feel of her, and by the taste of her, and, oh so very much, by the sound of her moans and her cries of passion, and he wanted to fill her with his love again. As she leafed through the pages, he slid in closer to nibble on her ear and play with her blond, silky curls. He enjoyed making it difficult for her to concentrate, relishing in the moments when a kiss or a touch would cause her breath to hitch or her reading to pause.

Pretending to be annoyed by his antics, she declared, "William Henry Murdoch, I am baring my soul to you – I thought you would be interested."

She heard his reply, muffled in her neck, his voice raspy with desire, sparking and twisting her womb into a hungry knot. "Oh … I am interested Julia. It's just that I want to " _bare_ " a few other parts of you as well," he teased.

She pushed him away and said, "Let me read it to you. Where is that self-control you are so famous for, detective?"

Rising to the challenge he answered, "You are right doctor. Where are my manners? Please continue." He propped his head on his pillow and attempted to give her his full, undivided attention.

Julia took a deep breath and brought her eyes back to the page, finding where she had left off.

 **He is due to return today, sometime this afternoon. The excitement of seeing him again tingles through my body, seems to tickle every cell, making it impossible to concentrate on work, or even have a reasonable conversation. I keep imagining it over and over. The look of his big, brown eyes as they meet mine. I so want to feel his arms around me, to hear his beautiful voice… I will never be able, now, after having lost him, I will never be able to un-know how valuable, essential, he is to my life.**

 **I don't want to be sitting there waiting for him. I'm not sure what I would say to the others. I will try to be a little late…**

 **I can't wait – I'm heading over now. Perhaps he was early. Perhaps he is there right now.**

 **(Julia turned the page, to the next entry. William's fingers reclaimed a blond curl and he moved in, getting closer. His desires were not subsiding. He kissed her cheek, then kissed closer to her mouth, trying to draw her into a more passionate kiss. She ducked away from him and cleared her throat, beginning to read once more. However, a playful smile curled at the corner of her lips; he could tell she was loving his distracted attention).**

 **Somehow, I knew he was there before I saw him, before I rounded the corner and our eyes met. The force of the pull between us was magnetic and strong. Everyone, everything, in the room stopped. A part of me felt all those eyes on me, but another part was aware of only his. My knees weakened and my heart sang, "** _ **He's alive! He's here!**_ **" His face told me, just one look and I felt so much; he was sorry – and he felt it too, wrinkled his face up on one side with the admission, that he felt it too, the power of our love. I couldn't help it – the attraction was too strong. I don't even remember running to him… I just remember the heavenly feeling of being in his arms. And yet, still not close enough. The drive to get closer to him was unbelievably fierce. Our kiss was inevitable, unstoppable, despite the public spectacle it would be. But, my God, such indescribable joy flooded through my heart when everyone in the stationhouse cheered for us, applauded our love. It felt like a wedding day, a delightful, wonderful, wedding day.**

(While she had been reading, William's advances had continued. He was sucking on the tender skin of her neck, truthfully driving her wild. But she fought it, ignoring him. She would try once again to share this part of their history with him – to show him the root of what would come to be one of their roughest times, her leaving him to go to Buffalo. She pushed against his shoulder and said, "William, pay attention. You will find this part interesting."

He pushed back against her, pressing her back into the mattress and kissed her deeply. " _Oh my God, this kiss feels so good,_ " she thought. Quickly becoming aroused, she felt her insides tighten as hot air surged out of nostrils. He felt it, he could tell, her body was filling with yearning. Cruelly, he would now take his chance to tease _her_. Breaking off the kiss and apologizing for his naughty behavior, he invited her to continue with her journal. Slightly stunned with having been abandoned just when she had given in, she repositioned herself and focused on the words on the page. " _Why had she wanted to read this?_ " she asked herself. She immediately remembered the significance as she heard her own voice tell the story out loud).

 **My mind is obsessed with it now – having William as my husband, being his wife. Never has anything seemed so right, so certain, to me as our love for each other. I want him by my side for the rest of my life, and I truly believe he feels the same way about me. I don't think I will ever feel alone again… (Julia's voice grew sad, slowed) But … He doesn't know … I should tell him … He needs to know.**

Julia lifted her eyes from the page, found his. "That's all I wrote," she said. He nodded. She could tell he already knew what it was she had been referring to, what she had been so reluctant to tell him back then. She continued, "The seed had been sown though … for our heartbreak." He nodded again, their eyes seeming stuck together. He swallowed; she knew he was feeling the pain once more. Julia took a deep breath and set out to finish the tale, "Soon after this, you helped the Inspector find Bobby after he was accidentally kidnapped, and I knew for certain … I knew we had a problem, what seemed to me to be an unsolvable problem. I had been so blinded … I guess by the power of my feelings for you, and the elation with knowing that you felt the same way for me, and I just hadn't let myself really see it. Even when I had consciously thought it – even when I was about to write it down, (her eyes dropped to the journal and she pointed at the spot where she had left the writing unfinished), here, in my journal even, I had still managed to push it away. But … well you know."

"I do." He replied. Then his eyes turned to her belly, his thoughts marveling at the sight of their unborn child. " _Tragic and miraculous,_ " he considered.

She snuggled closer to him, and she said, with an eyebrow raised, "Amazing, is it not?"

He cupped her cheek tenderly, "It is," and a huge smile overtook his face, igniting her lips into one as well.

She took a deep breath and asked, teasing in her voice, "So detective … in Bristol … Whatever happened with you and Anna? Her husband looked slightly worried. "Did you love her?" Julia pushed.

His fingers found one of her curls, twisting and admiring it, tempting his eyes. He took a deep breath and brought his eyes back to hers. She couldn't help but notice their deep beauty. " _My God, I love this man so,_ " she thought, soaking in the feelings of warmth and love gushing in her chest.

His voice bordered on a whisper, pulling her to him, magnifying their intimacy. He said, "I think I could have …"

"But you didn't?" she asked, now nearly holding her breath, wanting to know.

His answer was quick, decisive, clear, "No." He held her eye. There was no doubt. But he could see she wanted more. She was waiting for him to tell her. He remembered, when he had first come back into the station, and everyone was so happy to see him, and they kept punching him in his wounded arm, that the Inspector had referred to knowing what had happened in Bristol, and he had thought that somehow the older man was referring to his … affair … with Anna. Quickly, the Inspector had elaborated and said that he meant that he had heard that Murdoch had saved the Queen. He had felt so relieved that that was all at the time. It was clear to him that he didn't want Julia to know about Anna. That he felt guilty about it then. But now, after so many years, and being through so many troubles with Julia, and overcoming them all, well now, he didn't feel guilty anymore.

His thumb slid up her jaw to trace her ear. His fingers held her head, wrapped and tangled deliciously in her curls, and he said, "It's like the Sun and the Moon…" as he moved his thumb to trace her lips, "She reminded me of you; I saw you in her … when I couldn't see you. I was so lost in the darkness … didn't … couldn't remember even myself – who I was – where I was from. But there was something about her, so spicy and full-of-life… unencumbered by convention, and brave, and the way she looked at me – like I was special, valuable – she had decided to trust me … and well, uh, well now I know that it was my feelings for you… She was just a reflection; it was you that held the light… But before I remembered …"

William took a deep breath, almost a sigh, with the memory. He looked away. " _Was that shame?_ " she thought she saw, briefly, before his eyes returned…

"And … Julia …" he said, and then he decided to tell her – she would know. He held her face, looked deeply into her eyes and said, "I called out _**your name**_ , when we were, um…"

Julia pulled back, seeming to inspect him deeply.

" _She thinks we_ …" he thought with a panicked jolt. He rushed to explain, "We didn't … uh." He saw relief on her face and his heart slowed. He continued, "We were kissing is all. But my first memory, my first real memory, before I even knew who I was myself, my memory was of _**you**_." He bowed to her slightly, intensifying the significance. "I saw _**you**_ …From that night we saw the airship, the dirigible, in Jerseyville, the one that George insisted was an alien spaceship... when you found me out looking up at the stars. It was the first time I ever saw you with your hair down – like this," he said with a chuckle, "I was smitten, and it was obvious, I think. I mean even Higgins knew, having called it out and making me surge the blue liquid up into the tube for all to see." He sighed and went back to his story, "Well, when I was with Anna, I called out _**your**_ name, not hers, and then, well, then we both knew, that I loved another," he wrinkled up his face that way she so loved, admitting the undeniable, "I loved _**you**_ Julia, whoever, and wherever, you were. Only you."

She closed her journal. She was done reading. They were done talking. She finally gave in to his earlier amorous overtures. But this was no "warm front!" No, this was wild and passionate, crazed with the need to be closer and closer together, desperately, demandingly, hurriedly, closer. The air was charged with ozone, lightning electrified the room, and, oh, how the thunder did roar. William had tried, at first to quiet her a bit, worrying that Ruby would hear, but he weakened, finding the sounds of her lustful delight unbearably irresistible himself. It was a good thing that that parrot, Charlie, wasn't around for this one – He would definitely have added it to his repertoire.

When William and Julia finally emerged from their bedroom and went downstairs for breakfast, Ruby teased them mercilessly. "Well now, good morning … or is it afternoon?" she exaggerated. "And did you two lovebirds, um, well, did you _sleep_ well? She asked, slyly, stamping her accusation with a wink. William cleared his throat and took a seat at the kitchen table, failing to hide his blushing, endearing himself to both of the women in the process. Julia smiled and replied, "Yes. It was quite lovely. Thank you Ruby. And you?"

Ruby gestured for Julia to sit, and served them some of the eggs she had prepared. "I slept well," she answered, joining them at the table, "Although it was quite chilly. I was glad for the extra blanket … But I doubt the two of you would have noticed the cold."

Julia sat up taller, looked her younger sister directly in the eye, and said, "No. No. I found the temperature wonderfully warm actually." She took a sip of coffee and then shifted her blue eyes to gaze upon her husband. His eyes were solidly fixed down on his plate. She did believe she had never seen the man as interested in eating his eggs as he was this morning. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. " _He's desperately trying to avoid this whole situation_ ," she thought, his discomfort gleefully filling her with delight. "Don't you agree William?" she asked.

When he lifted his face, it had turned an even brighter shade of red. He swallowed the last mouthful of eggs on his plate and still needed to clear his throat, "Yes," he said. He then quickly stood up and brought the plate to the kitchen counter.

Julia dropped her chin, avoiding Ruby's eyes, but oh, how happy she was. She wondered if it was possible to love him more.

Later, when William opened the door, as he was about to go to the stationhouse, leaving the house free of any male presence for the Baby Shower, he called them to see. It had started snowing, the world quiet and white! It was the first snow to blanket the ground, and the trees, and the fences, and the world, since they had moved into their new home. William wrapped his arm around Julia, letting the beautiful sight sink in. He leaned over and whispered to her … noticing that Ruby strained to hear … and said, "There must be some sort of lovemaking that fits with such a storm, hmm? So quiet and breathless."

Julia leaned over closer to his ear and added, "So intimate … and special." She kissed his lips, light and quick, and then pulled back.

He leaned in once more, even quieter in her ear, and teased, "Although I don't remember too many _**quiet**_ storms, at least not in _**your**_ case," prompting her to gasp and pull back. Her eyes twinkled with playfulness as they mingled with the devilish sparkles in his. She gave him a child-like shove in the chest while she shook her head, playing at be insulted, and then his soft laughter melted her heart even more.

He bowed to her, tilted his hat at her, and said, raising his voice, including Ruby, "I hope you lovely ladies have a wonderful Baby Shower. I will attempt to arrive after the whole affair is over – for dinner." Julia nodded. "Good," he said with another nod, and then headed off.

The deep breath Julia took as she and Ruby stood together watching him walk down the front path of their house, open the front gate and head down the street to get a cab, intensified the feelings in her heart, particularly as the air flowed over the warmth in her chest. "I am really quite fond of my husband," she stated.

Jealousy had seeped into Ruby's veins, and yet she also was so very happy for her sister. Maybe it was as much curiosity as jealousy that prompted her to ask, "What was all that about?" as she waved her hand in the air near Julia's ear, hinting at all the whispering.

The question had sparked a memory from years ago in Julia's mind, giving rise to both jealousy and anger. She heard Ruby's voice in her head, responding to the same question Julia had asked of her, about the whispering, although this time it had been between Ruby and William. She gave the same response now to Ruby that Ruby had given to her then – it felt like a form of poetic justice. "It's none of your business," she said, somewhat sharply.

Ruby likely did not remember the time Julia's comment was referring to and felt an edge of insult in the comment, her stern look giving her feelings away.

"I'm sorry Ruby," Julia was quick to work to repair, "I was just thinking of the time when you and William had gone out to dinner together and he had whispered something in your ear – when you were in Toronto with Houdini's show. You told me it was none of my business back then. Do you remember?"

"Yes," Ruby replied. Then rushed to add, "And I remember you making up some lame excuse to interrupt our dinner as well."

Julia's lips locked tight as her pupils narrowed and her rising anger took focus. She released an exasperated sigh and said, "It was not an excuse – I needed to speak with William about poisons, for the case we were working on. You know that!"

Ruby's proud smile nearly boiled her blood. Ruby so loved to drive Julia mad, and she had done it once again. Ruby teased, "I know. I know, Jules. When it comes to William, you won't be pushed around." With that, the two of them fell into lighthearted laughter and shared a hug.

As they walked back into the house, Julia asked, "So what was it that William whispered to you all those years ago. And why did he take you out to dinner anyway?"

Julia was not surprised at all to learn that it had been Ruby who had asked William out to dinner that night. Her sister was quite forward, particularly with men, and Ruby had made it obvious from the get-go that she found William attractive. She told Julia that she still thought William was very handsome and very desirable, stirring a rise of discomfort mixed with pride in Julia.

"Oh, I see," Julia had said.

Ruby leaned in close to her sister and wrapped her arm in hers, "Don't worry Jules, William was not all that interested in me. I think he only agreed to go to dinner with me because I was _**your**_ sister. Before you got there, I had asked him if he was seeing anyone, and he said "No" – but there was someone he found, "intriguing." I'm sure it was you. I even suspected so then, even though it made me jealous and a bit – competitive… That is until I saw how much you cared for him. I'm really happy for you Jules – really," she said, warmed by Julia's smile. Answering Julia's original question, Ruby told her that all William had wanted was for her to put Houdini in touch with him. Mystery solved, they got to work preparing for Margaret and Eloise's imminent arrival. Julia was having a _**Baby Shower**_ today!

Fortunately, the snow deterred no one. Margaret, with the help of Eloise, had prepared a fantastic party, complete with decorations, and a feast of food and treats. Suspecting Margaret would not include alcohol; Julia herself had purchased and made available quite an abundant array of alcoholic choices for her guests. The most popular of which turned out to be a chocolate liquor that many women enjoyed mixed with vodka and milk, or even better – hot chocolate. Much to Julia's surprise, Margaret partook in drinking it as well. She partook a lot.

All in all, about a dozen women would be attending. Besides Julia, Ruby, and Margaret, there was also Emily, who had moved back to Ontario from England and was now a professor at Women's Medical College. Julia found her thoughts drifted in and out of worrying about Ruby and Emily being reunited after the last time the three of them had shared a lunch together and things had gotten quite out of hand. The two women seemed to encourage each other, exponentially increasing the danger of mischief when in each other's company. Julia's mouth uncontrollably curled into a smile as she remembered William coming home and "interrogating" the witnesses (Ruby and Emily) about Julia's kissing and telling. It really had been quite something.

There were also many of Julia's suffragist friends, one of whom was Ellie Masterson. It was Ellie who had driven William wild with jealousy, soon after they had first gotten married. William had met Ellie previously, when working on a case – Ellie had been the head of the women's basketball team which Julia had joined, at William's request, to spy on its members. Over dinner in William and Julia's hotel suite years later, Ellie had behaved flirtatiously _**with Julia**_. William's eyes had recently been opened to the possibility of lesbian love with Emily's love affair with Lillian having been brought to light after Lillian's murder. William had worked on that case as well. It was after Lillian's death that Julia had overheard her husband make an effort to comfort Emily with a comment about how they _**both**_ knew Lillian would have had only pleasant experiences in death. It was that comment that had led to Julia's discovery that William had a journal – that in it he had written about his own experience with dying and being brought back to life. She wondered if Ellie and Emily might hit it off. " _Such intrigue!_ " she thought.

Some of her married suffragist friends were coming as well. Margaret Hale was coming. She would be sure to talk about politics – likely clashing with Margaret Brackenreid. And there were four or five other women who were coming who had children. Thus she was sure much of the conversation would be about what one most expects at a Baby Shower – babies!

The women were thoroughly enjoying the Baby Shower, becoming somewhat intoxicated with their lively conversations, as well as the alcoholic beverages, when there was a delivery at the door. Eloise entered the living room carrying a gigantic bouquet of flowers, drawing the enthusiastic attention of every woman in the room. (Julia had been pleasantly surprised by the authentically warm relationship that had so quickly developed between Eloise and William. And it was Eloise's huge smile that convinced Julia that the bouquet had been sent by him).

Eloise laid the dozens of roses and other flowers in Julia's arms as the room erupted in playful jesting. "Oh, does our hostess have a secret admirer?" and, "Well now, the handsome Detective Murdoch may have a little competition after all."

Julia gave them a judgmental look and said, "I'm quite sure they are from William."

Of course, it would be Ruby who did it … stole the card before Julia could get to it, unsealed the envelope, pulled out the card and opened it wide. Julia could see it was in William's handwriting – and he had written quite a lot. She so hoped he hadn't gotten too … _**personal**_. Knowing she would fail, fearing that her attempts would only drive her sister forward with her antics; Julia could not help but to try to stop Ruby from reading the card. "Please Ruby! That card is private – it's for me. It's not meant to be read by others…" Julia argued as she was lured into chasing her little sister around the room.

Ruby stepped up on the coffee table and held the card out of Julia's reach. "Who wants to hear it?!" she hollered to the room of bustling, giggling women. Oh how they egged her on!

Ruby cleared her throat, preparing to read William's card to the roomful of women…

Julia stepped back. She couldn't really believe it was happening. It was like she was watching it from outside somehow. Her head was spinning and humming with emergency. She tried to tell herself it would be alright. Sometimes William writes simple, not-so-romantic cards with his roses … sometimes … rarely … if he is in a hurry…

Ruby's voice pierced the air, shaped by her teasing smile...

 **Dearest Julia,**

 **Such magic – all the storms we have weathered together, each intensifying the power of our love. Such wonder – all the storms we have made together, each rendering our lives worth living. We do make beautiful weather together, my love.**

Julia's eyes darted around the room, striving not to make eye contact with anyone. Her gaze froze on Margaret Brackenreid. " _Oh my God_ , _Margaret_ " her brain rattled, " _She will go home to the Inspector!"_

Ruby had paused, and then said, "Oh my, it is truly a love note."

Emily piped in – of course it would be Emily, "We should not be surprised. I have been told the detective is quite _**romantic**_."

Julia just stared at her, her mouth agape.

A voice called out, "Keep reading Ruby!" and she did, her voice more serious now, her emotions matching the deeper, more poetic mood of the note.

 **Oh, how I thrill with our cold fronts, with their gusts of wind and their hurried deluges. The rush of the teeming rain and the crashes of the thunder, blinding me while opening all the secrets of the world to my flickering sight. Such excitement, as the wind rustles the leaves, and your voice moans and flutters next to my ear, and my fingers whisper and swoosh through your curls, to demandingly hold tight. Such exhilarating anticipation as the lightning grows closer and closer to reach synchrony with the thunder, and together we build the tension, approaching our one perfect spot, loving each other with all of our might.**

Julia's mind spun as she fought to regain control of … anything. " _Oh my God, he wrote about our lovemaking. Oh my God!_ " she thought right before she was distracted by the excited chatter. From behind her she heard one woman declare, "It's not enough that she has the dishiest husband I've ever seen, he has to be good in bed too!" Another said quietly with a giggle, "His writing is very, um, titillating… don't you think? "Quite," a nearby voice answered. Julia felt she might explode from all the emotions – wavering, shuddering, she shook on the edge between crumbling and collapsing into a ball of discomfort, and soaring with pride and joy for all to know how marvelous the man was, and that it was she who had won his heart.

"There's more!" Ruby exclaimed. Then Emily hushed the crowd.

 **And oh, those scrumptious warm fronts, with their intense, all-encompassing, steady rain, soaking us with love, tenderly filling us with lustful delight. They can take all morning; they can take all night. Such symphony as the steady rain sizzles the surface of the puddles, and the heat of your breath tingles, making my skin ignite. Such a pounding comfort as the pouring rain batters the rooftop above us, and our heartbeats build and race, together, before they slow and we recover, and we hold each other, thoroughly exhausted, cozy and tight.**

"Ooh!" and "Oh my! and "Wow, I wish my husband had even an inkling of such things," spilled throughout the room. Julia looked over at Margaret – she looked astonished, flabbergasted. Just then, however, Margaret leaned forward and hollered, slurring slightly, "Lustful delight? Detective Murdoch? Detective Murdoch wrote lustful delight!" Julia found herself shaking her head in disbelief as Margaret grabbed the woman next to her, " _Oh my God, it's Ellie! Margaret is squeezing and jumping up and down with Ellie Masterson!"_ Julia thought with amazement.

Margaret Brackenreid called out, "Keep going! Don't stop now!" Ruby turned back to the note.

 **But the most enchanting miracle of all, my love, the one that staggers my mind with destiny, and fate, and wonderment, is that our storms, our love, had the force to overcome it all – That within you, our love grows. It is with that awe, with that amazement, that I whisper to you, that I yell to you…**

 **Enjoy your celebration today, my love, for this day is meant for you to celebrate, to truly bask in the fruits of all of our magnificent storms, take bliss in this meteorological hour. Today is the most magnificent storm of all - your baby** _ **shower**_ **.**

 **William**

Ruby closed the card. "I do say, the man can surely write a love note," she declared as she stepped off of the coffee table and handed Julia back her card.

"I'll say," one woman added.

It seemed that now all eyes were on Julia. And for a moment, for she certainly could not think of anything to say, it was quiet. To minimize the pressure of the magnitude of their gazes, she dropped her eyes to the card and tucked it back into its envelope. She swallowed, but found that her mind was still blank…

"Now Julia," Margaret Hale's friendly voice lanced the tense silence, "You do know there is no point in avoiding it."

Julia's eyes still down, she said honestly, "I really don't know what to say."

A sigh of relief escaped Julia's lips as a woman yelled across the room, drawing all those eyes away, "Well, I'll say that making love with my husband isn't at all like what your husband describes. We have never had any of your so-called " _cold fronts_ ," or " _warm fronts_." What we have is like getting squirted with a garden hose…"

The room burst into laughter. Quieting the room, asking to be heard, another married woman exclaimed, "Well, Charlie and I must live in a desert then!" provoking more hearty laughter.

Emily wrapped an arm around Julia and said, "Julia … we are truly happy for you – that's all."

"And a little jealous," a voice called out, prompting the room to laugh, somewhat self-consciously, once more, for this was certainly true.

Margaret Brackenreid poured herself another drink while she asked, snoopiness never being something she shied away from, "Tell us dear, which do you prefer … the cold fronts or the warm fronts?"

Dizzy and breathless, Julia lifted her eyes. It was obvious that she was blushing, but she was able to take comfort in seeing that she was not the only one; many of the women joined her in gleeful embarrassment.

Ruby added fuel to the fire. "Oh I dare say, I think she likes the warm fronts." She turned her gaze to Julia, asking, "That is what I heard this morning, is it not?" the shift of her eyes bringing all the others along for the ride. "It seemed to last well over an hour … and it was quite … passionate, to say the least…" Ruby returned her focus to include the others and continued, "thunderous even." Laughter started in the room only to abruptly halt, as the blue eyes of the sisters met – and sparks seemed to fly!

Julia's voice was confident and strong. Her heart had decided it would not cower from celebrating – broadcasting, the splendidness of her love-life with William. "Actually Ruby, this morning was what William and I call "scattered thunderstorms." But there was this deliciously delightful warm front in the middle…" Julia closed her eyes and rocked her body, took in a deep breath, as if smelling the rain-soaked ground being first kissed by the warm sun. "Oh, it was truly delicious," she said, with her voice sounding dreamy and enchanted. "But, oh my God ladies, those thunderstorms that come with the cold fronts – they are breathtaking, powerful…" Julia shook her head, highlighting her disbelief, "During those, well … words truly can't say, but … when you get caught in that type of storm, you want to be closer together, really, really closer together – more than you want life itself."

Margaret Hale asked, "Do you think your husband could teach my husband how to do these …" her eyes grew big, "storm fronts?"

Julia bounced up a bit onto her toes before she answered, "I don't think so Margaret," with a regretful wrinkle in the corner of her mouth, "But if your husband goes to Chinatown, he could try to find a book about Ishinpō…"

Another woman stepped forward, trying to hear, "Ishinpō?" she said.

Julia explained that it was a Chinese method of lovemaking William had discovered, that taught men to hold off on their own pleasure to pleasure the woman – that it improved the lovemaking for both sexes, and that supposedly, it actually improved people's health and their lives. Many women practiced the name a few times in an effort to memorize it.

Eventually, the conversations moved on to other topics. Slowly women started to head home. Julia decided to invite Emily to stay the night once it got to be dark outside. Emily would need to take a train back to Kingston, and they had plenty of rooms and Eloise was making a big dinner anyway. Ruby gave Emily a hug and offered to show her the bedroom where she would sleep (and the rest of the upstairs too).

The two of them ran up the stairs giggling. The first bedroom, on the right, was William and Julia's. Ruby suddenly halted before the closed door and turned to Emily. Excitedly she whispered, "All those, "storm fronts," happen in there.

"Oh I see," her partner in crime said.

They continued down the hall to the first room on the left – the baby's room. They each marveled in the happiness the room brought. Then Ruby grabbed Emily's arm and dragged her off down the hall, paused at the bathroom on the right to tell her that they would be sharing this one, and that William and Julia had their own bathroom in their master suite. At what appeared to be the end of the hall, was Ruby's room, but then the hall turned to the right to end in another room – it was that one that would be Emily's tonight. After dropping down Emily's coat and purse, Ruby said, "I'm sure Jules wouldn't mind lending you a nightgown and a robe… Let's go see what she has in her drawers."

"Ruby I couldn't!" Emily declared, "Not without asking."

Ruby grabbed her hand and hurriedly dragged her down the hall. They stood outside of the closed door and each took deep breaths to work up the courage. " _I feel like I have the sister I have always wanted_ ," Emily thought, " _And we're both about to spy on our parents!"_ Gleefully, they opened the door and crossed the threshold. They stood in front of the large bed, turning to widen their eyes at each other with excitement. "Just imagine all the things that happen in that bed," Emily said.

"I am," replied Ruby with a guilty chuckle. They found a nightgown and a robe folded up in a drawer. They decided it was safe to borrow them because they could see Julia's nightgown was on what must be her side of the bed (William's pajamas were on the other side), and Julia's blue robe, which Ruby had seen her wearing, was hanging on the bathroom door.

They headed down the stairs. Rounding the corner, with half of the staircase still to go, they paused and listened. That was William's voice! Ruby grabbed Emily's hand, "We're missing something!" she declared and the two women bolted down the stairs to see.

When William first came in the door, he smelled Eloise's delectable beef stew coming from the kitchen down the hall to his left, and he heard women's voices in the living room just past the foyer on the right. " _They're still here_ ," he thought, somewhat surprised for it was past six o'clock. He took off his coat and hat and paused at the living room entrance. There were still three women here, one of which was Margaret Brackenreid, and all were highly engaged in energetic conversation. They had not noticed him. The flowers he had sent were beautifully displayed in a vase on the center coffee table. The sight made him smile.

Julia looked up and caught sight of him. Quickly her eyes went back to the woman speaking and she said, "Excuse me ladies, I'll be right back." She worked particularly hard to get her seven-plus month's pregnant body out of the chair, seemingly in a hurry. Her body language suggesting secrecy, she rushed William back into the foyer, out of sight.

They shared a quick kiss. Then Julia huddled close to her husband and said quietly, "William, I'd like you to escort Margaret home… She's quite … tipsy."

William pulled back with surprise. He lifted an eyebrow at her, "Tipsy," he said, his face wrinkled with doubt, "Margaret?"

"Yes," Julia whispered excitedly with the gossip. Her eyes grew big, "She quite indulged!" she added with a giggle.

"Oh," he replied, raising his eyebrow at her once again, accenting the scandal. They turned to go back and join their company, but William took her arm – stopped her. "Julia," he whispered, "Do you really think I should take her home to the Inspector in such a state?"

Pausing briefly to think, to imagine it really, Julia responded, "I think it will give the Inspector years' worth of ammunition to use when they argue about his drinking…" William nodded.

Caroline, a suffragist friend of Julia's, noticed the couple huddled near the doorway whispering. "Oh my," she announced, "The man of the house is finally home!" Much to William's surprise, the band of three women broke into applause as he and Julia walked into the room. Ellie Masterson said, "The flowers you sent are quite beautiful, William…"

Julia quickly slid her arm in his and squeezed him tight, "Oh yes, William. They are splendid!" adding a tender kiss to his cheek, "Thank you. That was very thoughtful."

"And very stimulating!" Caroline, who also seemed to have over-indulged in drinking alcohol, declared. Julia's heart began to race. She had hoped with Ruby and Emily out of the room, she … and William, might have been spared the embarrassing talk about his love note.

"How is that?" William asked, just before his eyes focused on the opened card on the coffee table next to the flowers. Julia noticed his face was already red before he swallowed, trying to cope, before the woman even answered his question.

"Well your romantic poem detective, of course. Your wife is surely a very lucky woman," Caroline added, tucking her chin and fluttering her eyelashes at him, prompting Julia to squeeze his arm even tighter, jealousy bubbling up inside of her.

He turned to give his wife a stern, almost disciplining look, "Again, Julia?"

She released his arm and marched back to her seat on the couch. "Oh no. Don't go blaming me for this one mister … You wrote it. And you sent it to our house, during my Baby Shower…" Before she sat, she turned to him, love for him mixed with glee upon the sight of his shocked face gurgling up to melt her heart, she would dig in the barb now, smash the winning point, "…Knowing Ruby was here."

It flashed immediately over his face – regret, awareness of how obvious his mistake had been. "Ruby, of course!" he thought, " _What was I thinking,_ " he scolded himself. "Did she …"

Ellie took this one, "Oh yes! Ruby stood up here," she patted the coffee table, "On her soap box, with all of the women here gathered round…"

Julia looked at William, " _Stunned. Absolutely stunned_ ," she thought.

"She read your note aloud," Caroline finished. "It was so beautiful. Everyone loved it," she said.

Ellie continued, "Your analogy between storms and lovemaking was very seductive and alluring, William. We found ourselves becoming quite enlightened about … the bedroom," even Ellie fell into laughter. Of course it was contagious and Caroline and Margaret cascaded along with her.

William turned as red as Julia had ever seen him – save for when the desk clerk read the parrot's words aloud to them at the hotel. Although she felt terribly for him, she couldn't help but start to giggle herself. She grabbed a hold of the edge of the couch and bounced and bumped, trying to get up. She figured the least she could do was to go stand with him through all this.

Seeing his wife trying to get up, he rushed over to give her a hand. Once she was on her feet she threw her arms around his neck. "My God, I love you William Murdoch." She declared. Joyed, she felt him wrap his arms around her waist…

"And I you," he said softly. They tightened the hug to a round of applause. William released his wife. The couple stood facing the three women and he said, "So, I'm sure you must have talked about other things besides my flowers …" he cleared his throat, "… and my note. I see there are quite a few gifts…"

Suddenly all eyes turned to the entrance as Ruby and Emily came barreling in. "William! You're here!" Ruby exclaimed. The two women perused the room. William and Julia both knew that they were trying to ascertain whether or not the jolly tale had already been told.

Not surprisingly to Julia, at least not after she had seen William take charge of the situation a few years ago, launching an "investigation" into the crime of kissing and telling, and "interrogating the witnesses," William was quick to take control of this situation as well. He bowed politely to them, "Miss Ruby. Dr. Grace." They nodded back. William lifted the card from the table, held it up and shook it in the air. "There have been reports of theft. You have been accused of stealing this card … Of, how shall I say it? Disclosing state secrets. Such crimes are …"

Julia joined in, saying the rest with him, hearing Terrence Meyers' voice in her head as she did so, "… Considered treason and are punishable by death."

Ruby and Emily looked at each other. They turned back to the detective. Emily weakened, declaring quickly that she really had nothing to do with it. Ruby gave her a playful dirty look and then said to William, "The penalty seems rather steep, don't you think?"

Interrupting the whole show, Margaret stood up and walked over to William, well, more _**stumbled**_ over to William really. She stood in front of him, lifted herself up on her toes to get closer to his face and whispered, "Detective," her breath pungent with intoxication, the power of the scent prompting William to take a step back. The sudden change in distance between them staggered her balance and she fell forward into him, grabbing a hold of his jacket collar to steady herself.

"Margaret," he said, "Are you quite alright?" with an eyebrow raised at her.

"Yes. Yes, detective," she slurred, "Just a little too much of that … delshus choc… chocolate …" she struggled to find the word, "…stuff." She placed her index finger over her lips and said, "Shh, don't tell Thomas. Speaking of Thomas, detective, I would very much appreciate it if you would teach Thomas …" she lifted her eyes from his collar to meet his eyes, "My goodness Detective Murdoch… You truly are a handsome man…"

Julia reached over and took a careful hold of her elbow. "Margaret," she said, "Perhaps you should sit down." Julia turned to William and said compassionately, "I think she should stay here for dinner. It might sober her up." He nodded.

Looking at Julia, Margaret declared, "Oh, I remember now." She turned her attention back to William and said, "Detective, would you please teach Thomas about those warm fronts. They sound wonderful!"

William turned to Julia, his eyes pleading with desperation.

Julia cleared her throat, gaining everyone's attention, "I believe Eloise has been very patient with holding our dinner. I think we had best go eat. Ellie. Caroline. Are you going to join us as well?"

Both ladies took heed of their clue that it was time to go and said their good-byes, during which Julia leaned over to William's ear and whispered, "I don't think Margaret will remember any of this William. She is quite drunk."

"Perhaps," he sighed, as his eyes held hers, seeming to beg fate to make it so.

Dinner was lively, delicious and fun. It did help to sober Margaret up, but William still escorted her home. Arriving back home, he heard Julia laughing as Ruby told some wild tale or another. He giggled to himself, feeling so happy to hear her enjoying herself so. He hung up his coat and hat. He rested a shoulder against the entrance to the living room, watching the women. Deciding to make a fire for them, he stepped into the room. "How is everyone?" he asked as he crossed the room and leaned down to give Julia a kiss. He built the fire – first small sticks, tucked the wrapping paper from the gifts into the spaces, and then some bigger logs on top. He lit it and then stepped back. Quickly the paper grew into flames.

"Such beautiful colors," Emily declared. Everyone agreed.

William told them goodnight. He was going to take a shower and go to bed. He reminded Julia he wanted to attend the early mass tomorrow. He gave her a kiss and headed up. 

Once everyone had said goodnight and closed their own bedroom doors, Julia undressed in their dimly lit room (William had left only the lamp on her night table on). She listened intently to his breathing and determined he was asleep. She too wanted a shower.

Afterwards, she saw him looking, in the vanity mirror, at her naked body in the dim light, when he was supposed to have fallen asleep. He looked so … entranced, so in love – with her, and with their baby. His eyes were focused on, spellbound really, by her swollen belly. He did not know she was watching him. He did not know the impact seeing him look at her, at them, that way had had on her. She wondered, for a moment, if she had ever before felt such happiness. She thought back to the time, not so long ago, when he had told her – in his journal, how taken with her beauty he was now that she was in her very pregnant state. It wasn't until this very moment, however, that she believed it so deeply. Unlike lust, which also burned strong between them, this feeling did not take her breath away and weaken her knees, rather, it seemed to increase her ability to take in oxygen, it seemed to empower her. Its warmth filled all of her, ultimately seeming to nurture her soul. There was such a rightness to it, while at the same time it celebrated the impossibilities, creating an appreciative awe.

Risking breaking the trance, she placed her hand gently on her belly and said, "Little one … Shall we go lie with your Daddy for a while?" Then their eyes met in the mirror, and she knew … she knew that she was wrong about never being as happy as when she had seen his love just a moment ago, for her happiness surged so that it ached with their connection. In the mirror, she saw him pull back the blankets, making her place next to him.

Her smile melted every cell in his body, and his heart raced with joy as she walked over to him, turned out her light, and crawled into bed, to be tucked under the covers with him.

Not another word was spoken that night as the Murdoch's held each other until sleep overcame them. They slept nestled together as a family, briefly for a time laying face to face, their baby between them, safely cocooned between mother and father. Until, the little one stirred, inside its mother, pounding an elbow or a knee against its outer boundary as it rolled over, shifting position, waking its parents. In the dark, December night, Julia's eyes opened, and worked to meet those of her husband, wondering if the baby had woken him too. She heard him take in some air, felt his stubbled face tenderly scratch against her, then felt the warmth of his breath sliding over her ear as he said, "I suppose we will have to get used to being awakened in the middle of the night like that Mrs. Murdoch, hmm?"

He could tell she smiled, he felt the movement of her face on his cheek, before she answered, "Fortunately, yes." She kissed his cheek and snuggled in closer.

He heard a contented sigh. "Good night," he whispered. And, it truly was … "good."


	15. Chapter 15Almost Christmas

Journal Journeys: Almost Christmas

The view from his office window, the world as he knew it softened and made pure under the wintry snow, slowed his heartbeat for him, deepened each breath, calmed him. This meat industry case had been particularly hard, pulling back the veneer that had hidden so much of the ugliness of life. Not only had it put a strain on his own outlook, darkening it, hardening it, to the point of endangering his essential grasp on hope, it had led to problems between himself and Julia, and at a time when they needed the strongest bond possible. He sighed. It would be about a month now – in such a short time, he would be someone's father.

The Inspector's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Loud, making an announcement, he hollered, "Oy … Bug-a-lugs, listen up. This snow storm is going to be putting quite a damper on crime… And, even though it is only ten o'clock in the morning, I certainly don't want to get stuck in this stationhouse with you lot. Are there any volunteers to stay? Otherwise, let's close it up and head home before the storm traps us here."

George volunteered, good sport that he was, and still not married, somewhere between broken hearts. He would be able to work on his latest novel just as well here as he could in his lonely apartment anyway. He was quite looking forward to it – this book centered not only around his favorite, _secret_ protagonist – Detective Murdoch, and the detective's cases, but also around his remarkable personal story as well – particularly in matters of the heart. The constable had had many new insights into the man, having just ridden the rails with him disguised as hobos on the meat industry case. He would take advantage of the quiet time in the station to get his ideas down on paper – and get paid overtime while he did it at that. Plus, everyone gave him a grateful, "Hip-hip-hurrah" for volunteering.

William had ridden his bike to the station, but the snow was already over his ankles. He rolled it into the stationhouse stables, and headed out to the main street to catch a cab. He would stop to buy some food for the next few days, in case the storm locked them in – " _Some flowers and chocolates for Julia, too!_ " he thought, the newfound freedom and the joy of the snowfall starting to lift his spirits considerably.

Julia had been looking out their kitchen window at the snow, while sitting at the table finishing her lunch. That's the only reason she happened to see him – the sight of her husband sending pleasant thrills through her with the surprise, and then the warm feeling of both, being loved by him, and of loving him so much herself that, at times, it hurt. He stood, being powdered by the falling snowflakes, his arms so full of packages he seemed unable to open their front gate, before lifting his eyes towards the house with the slightest hope that she would see, would be able to save him. She surprised herself with the speed of her pregnant waddle, as she had opened the front door so quickly, he had only managed to try to undo the front gate mechanism with his foot once.

Their eyes met through the haze of the weather, and she saw his body sink with relief. As quickly as possible, for bending over was no longer possible at eight-months pregnant, she stepped into her galoshes and rushed out to open the gate and take a bag, trying to solve the tiddlywinks problem of freeing it without dislodging all the other packages from his arms. "William, how wonderful!" she declared. "And so many packages, it's like an early Christmas!" she added, childlike excitement in her voice.

"Indeed," he replied.

She sat with him while he had some lunch before he changed his clothes and headed out into the storm to shovel the path. By the time he kicked the snow off his boots and closed the door behind him, she had placed his beautiful red and white "Christmas" roses in a vase, and lit the room with some romantic candles, and made some hot chocolate, and brought a blanket downstairs for them to cuddle under, and brought out their journals. Their relationship had been strained by his latest case. She sighed, suffering somewhat with the memories, particularly the one of finding out that he had kept a secret from her – that he had intended to visit and stay with Ettie Weston in Winnipeg while working undercover. And of course, the memories of their arguing about it still stung, despite the fact that, technically, they had worked it out. Sharing their journals had served to bring them closer together quite well in the past. She hoped it would work this time as well. "William," she called from the living room, hearing him come in, "Do you think you could start a fire?"

He rounded the corner. The warm, cozy view tugged at him, invitingly… And yet, a nervousness roused in his gut. She had such expectations, and he really wasn't sure he would be able, _they_ would be able, to live up to them. Further, he had hoped to workout with some weights, having missed his routine workouts for weeks now as the meat industry case had placed demands, and injuries, in his way – he still felt the pain of the meat hook in his shoulder. Subconsciously, he reached up to rub it, before his fingers switched to rub his forehead instead. "Of course," he answered, "That sounds lovely."

As he worked to make the fire, he pondered, struggling to work it out in his mind, unsure what it was that she wanted. The room seemed prepared for romance, he reasoned, yet they had been ordered off of lovemaking, _of any kind_ , since the last time Isaac had stopped by… And Julia seemed to be so very uncomfortable now being well into her third trimester of pregnancy, it seemed any lovemaking would be … beyond awkward, anyway… Taking one last poke at the burning kindling, he stood, finished, his brown eyes entranced, watching the colorful flames dance about.

She had stayed in the living room entrance, leaning on the door frame, watching him make the fire, as if from afar. Never before had she realized how much they relied on lovemaking to truly remove the bitter taste left over after an argument. She let go a heavy sigh. Everything felt off – Them … Her own body … Like the drumbeat didn't quite match with the rest of the song.

She walked over to stand next to him, joining him in letting the beauty of the fire melt away some of her thoughts for a while. Eventually, noticing the heat from the fire was too much when standing this close, she turned to him, drawing his eyes to her. He wrinkled his face, pulling the right side of his mouth up. The look always managed to let her know how he felt – offering apology and acknowledgement in the same shared moment. "Sit with me for a while?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," he answered. He held out a hand for her, helping her to fall on the couch as softly as possible, before he sat next to her. Both too hot from their recent proximity to the fire, he placed the blanket aside. He handed her a cup of hot chocolate, then took his own. With his first sip he said, "I'm glad it got a bit cold … after we had been standing too close to the fire for so long." They held each other's eyes as she nodded and took another sip. He put his cup down and with a sigh, reached up to rub his brow.

A compassionate sigh almost escaped from her chest, his gesturing letting on that he was feeling anxious, but instead, her heart bounced – she had an idea, " _Christmas! Of course!_ " She knew the holiday had a way of lightening her serious husband's heart, leaving him humming and tinkering, and outright jolly at times. She put her cup on the side table next to her and said, "I was hoping to share our journals – about Christmas's past." He lifted his chin, and she saw it in his eyes again, already – hope.

His voice sounded excited as he replied, "Well, it is _**almost**_ Christmas! … Do you want to go first?"

He handed her the flower-covered journal, and then slid in closer to her, resting his arm on the back of the couch. He pulled a knee up on the seat between them, turning his body to better face her, and, as she turned through the pages, her mind reeling with the worried thought that maybe she hadn't ever written anything specifically about Christmas, she felt him take a curl of her hair, his fingers lightly brushing across her jaw as they twirled and played with it admiringly … " _Home_ ," she thought as the ruffling of the pages halted, and her eyes met his, and warmth flooded through her, and she saw it, inside of him, as well. They stayed, stuck for a pleasant moment, together. His fingers slid up to trace her ear, cup her face, slide over her lips, almost like he was memorizing the contours, remembering her.

He broke the spell – took a deep breath and said, "I have missed you." He already knew the reply that would come, deepening its significance when she uttered it …

"And I you," she slowly matched. Her words re-created the shared memory of her response when they stood on the asylum steps years ago, after Darcy had ripped up the annulment papers, and she had told him to work it out with his God, and he had told her he loved her, and that he knew God would not frown on such a love, and that she could count on having him stand by her side – always. She smiled, and dropped her eyes to her journal, which she held in her hands in front of her wide, pregnant belly. When she looked back to him, she saw his eyes on her journal as well. Regretfully, she said, "I'm afraid I can't think of a particular time that I wrote about Christmas …" But then the memory jumped into her mind, "Oh, but I think …" The pages turned quickly … "Yes, this will do." She felt him move closer, somehow wrapping more around her as she started to read.

 **William has been so lovely this Christmas. Just last night, he bought a tree. I must say, I had not even thought I wanted one until I saw it. And we hung my family's old ornaments on it, ornaments from when I was just a child, and I felt so at home, in a way I had not before. We are a family, I felt it in my bones, this man and I.**

Her eyes still on the page, she heard him agreeing, "Mm," and felt her body react to his aura as she saw him nod his head, from out of the corner of her eye, and then shift closer to slip his fingers deeper into the bun in her hair.

 **Now, I want a special present to give him. One he will never forget … One** _ **WE**_ **will never forget.**

He chuckled, anticipating what was coming, " _Oh, we'll never forget it_ ," he thought, an eyebrow arching up as he remembered the moment he walked in, with George, to find her wrapped up, naked, except for the sexy, short, bed-sheet, and a big red bow…

 **Perhaps a wristwatch, although he has Liza's pocket watch … and such watches worn on the wrist aren't considered very manly.**

A smile began to curl on her lips as she read on.

 **It has worked well before, surprising him with one form of costume or another – like the corset-like teal-colored silk garment with the tiny, very short bloomers I seduced him with; or the red outfit made based on his memory of a dream he had had after he had been knocked-out with chloroform, while he tried to find Enid Jones' missing son, and he struggled with his still-present feelings for me. Of course, that's it …** _ **I will be his Christmas present!**_

William leaned closer to her, finding her ear with his voice, "And what a wonderful Christmas present it was – of course, except for George," he rushed to say, prompting them both to fall into tittering, still somewhat embarrassed, laughter. His lips found her neck. She felt his warm, velvety tongue between his teeth on her flesh, surging her insides into flames. He breathed her in, and then said, intimately, so close to her ear, "I did quite enjoy the re-wrapping … and then the unwrapping, later."

Needing to stop her lustful cramps, she pushed him away, stopping his advances, reminding him of their new … rules, whispering, "Really William, you must stop setting off these fireworks deep inside of me."

He bowed to her quickly. "My turn, then … to read my journal?" he replied, joining in the effort lower the heat by changing the subject.

"Yes," she agreed, handing him her journal to put down as he retrieved his.

Julia asked him to get the box of chocolates from the foyer, explaining her ravenousness so soon after lunch, "I can eat so little at a time, my stomach having no room to expand… I get so hungry so fast." His eyes held hers, he wanted her to know, to feel it once more, how much he appreciated her … awed in her magic and sacrifice, and the suffering that came with it, how he wished he could help minimize the pain and the discomfort. "Don't you dare say you are sorry, William," she warned.

He flinched and then raised his eyebrow at her. "I intended to say nothing, but if I were going to tell you something, it would have been, Thank you," he explained. Her smile in response ignited his smile as well. "I'll be right back with those chocolates," he continued, with a respectful bow. William then leaned close to her before he got up and added, "And I will never forget that you are eating for two, milady."

Repositioned on the couch, him sitting with his journal in his lap, her sitting sideways facing him, legs bent at the knees up on the couch seat, and with her elbow propped into the back of the couch with her chin resting in her hand, the box of chocolates between her thighs and the back of the couch, William found the only entry he remembered writing about Christmas. He notified her, "This is from quite an interesting time Julia. You were married to Darcy," his eyes lifted from the small, brown journal to meet hers. He took a deep breath and then returned his focus on reading. Remembering upon seeing the words, a thought splashed through his mind … " _This will reveal something she does not know,_ " causing his heart to race a little. His voice breached the silence.

 **Margaret's rum pudding was good as ever… I must remember to send a Thank You.**

 **A part of me wonders, though… The woman seems to get some kind of secret pleasure out of getting me to imbibe in any form of alcohol. Perhaps she thinks that the Inspector's drinking is less pronounced if someone like me drinks, and eats in this case, too. Perhaps the alcohol did have an effect. CRAZY ideas, and I gave into them. Went by Julia's house. Like I somehow wanted to rub the pain deeper into the wounds. It was still pretty early – only around three in the afternoon or so, but it seemed they weren't home – Julia and her …**

William paused in his reading to take a quick glance at her. She was highly intrigued. He read on.

… **her husband. It was so stupid of me to go there. I let myself look up at the windows – probably their bedroom, that big one up there. It ripped me apart, the images that flashed through my mind, of him moving, slowly on top of her, pushing her upwards rhythmically into the mattress, her flesh so soft, and moving underneath him, her fingers holding tightly to him, her beautiful face luminous with pleasure.**

Emotion took the room. His voice grew scratchier. She felt it ever so slightly, behind her eyes, the swelling, the call – to cry. She would push it away, swallowing a chocolate.

 **Definitely the rum had weakened me, having a second glass of sherry had not been a good idea… All this time I had managed to protect myself from such agonizing thoughts. I always knew they would hurt the most somehow, thoughts of Julia making love with him. I was devastated, and stuck there wallowing in my own self-pity. It felt awful, absolutely awful.**

William sighed. He swallowed and went on, not looking at her this time.

 **I don't remember deciding to go there, only remember being up in the tree on the hill behind the spot – the one nearly perfect spot, where we had almost made love. Tears on my cheeks when I saw them, walking arm-in-arm in the park as the sun lay low in the sky, as we had done so many years before. I couldn't believe it – still can't really, the coincidence of it, of the timing, of the concealed crossing of our paths. Like it was fate digging salt into the wounds, adding insult to injury, as well. It was her. It was Julia, and she was not with me, she was with him, she was with her husband, Dr. Darcy Garland.**

He paused, found her eyes, and asked, "Do you remember … going there on Christmas day?"

"I do," she answered, hearing the quivering in her own voice, betraying her emotions. She took a deep breath, dropped her eyes from his. She continued, "I too found I went there … perhaps to remember, perhaps to grieve." This time when their eyes met there was that … tug … between them. Touched, for he saw tears in her eyes, he wrinkled the corner of his mouth, acknowledging that it was a shared ache. He read on.

 **All those years ago, it had been absinthe, instead of rum and sherry, which had rendered me out-of-control. I held my breath and I prayed they wouldn't see me, for I would surely die from the mortification of it. With a guilty edge to it, I could not look away, having been caught by what I so wished was me – I guess I allowed myself to dream it. But it increased the pain exponentially, and I found I had to struggle with suppressing the sobs so as not to give myself away. I thought they would just walk by. But Julia turned, let go of his arm, and stopped. She was staring right at it – as if she remembered, as well as I, exactly where the picnic blanket had laid. My heart exploded with the knowledge of it! She was suffering too. I knew it. I had to cover my mouth, keep back the sound.**

William's eyes teared-up. He kept his eyes down on the book and added, "I knew you still loved me Julia … and then I knew we were both stuck with the suffering of our lost love, and would be forever."

She lifted his chin, seeing his blink send the first tear down his face. Her thumb brushed it away. She shook her head tenderly at him, "But, I had already told you that I still loved you in my note – before I took my vows," she wondered.

"I had figured that after your marriage, well, um and then after you left the morgue, well I thought you had moved on," he said, once again wrinkling his face. She nodded, understanding. William sighed and returned to reading.

 **Darcy seemed to grow impatient with her, taking her arm before she looked ready to go. They walked away, down the hill, around a bend … gone. Never, never have I felt so all alone, so totally destined to be all alone.**

William closed the journal and wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand, and said, "It was the very next day that Mr. Turner was escorted into the station, claiming to have seen the future." He smiled at her.

"Mm," she took over the story, "Only a week till I was back in your arms." He nodded and took a deep breath seeming to search for grounding with the relief.

He cleared the journal and the box of chocolates from between them, and they shifted positions, William with his back against the arm of the couch and Julia resting her back against his chest, between his legs. From behind her, he fiddled with her hair, and caressed her face, occasionally placing a tender kiss on her head. They were quiet for a while before Julia said, "Did you write about the first time we met William?" She squirmed a little, suggesting discomfort with the question, (for he had still been engaged to Liza at the time, even if she was dying of consumption), before she perked up, adding more seductively, "I mean, you have told me you knew I was the one for you from the moment we first met…"

He wrapped his arms around her from behind and gave her a gentle squeeze. She felt his breath cross her ear before he said, "Ever since I met you, you were in nearly every journal entry I wrote."

She teased, "Not in the first one we shared – the one about you dying and being brought back to life by Dr. Grace…"

She felt him shift to the side, lean in against the back of the couch and tilt his head in an effort to catch a glimpse of her face. "Well, you were another man's wife when that happened, had left the morgue to start your own Practice – you were no longer a part of my life, and I was trying to accept it… And I did say "nearly…" She nodded. "How about you? Did you write about it?" he asked.

She smiled, "Volumes, I believe." Her heart bubbled with glee, for, ever so slightly, he blushed. She pushed back deeper into him and turned to kiss his cheek.

The phone rang. With considerable effort, William shifted them both sufficiently to get off of the couch and answer it, albeit in between the fifth and sixth ring. Julia listened intently to the conversation as best she could.

"Murdoch residence," William answered.

"Ah, Dr. Grace, wonderful to hear from you… Oh, you're in Toronto? … Do you want me to get her? …

Hearing it was Emily, Julia stirred. She wanted to tell her something. But, my God, she found it difficult to get out off of this couch! "William," she hollered, hoping to catch Emily before they hung up.

"Hold on, doctor. Julia is calling… Just a minute…" He put his hand over the mouthpiece and called to Julia asking her if she wanted to come to the phone.

Frustrated, still trying to get up, she explained that she wanted Emily to know George was alone at the stationhouse… She thought Emily might want to stop by.

William raised an eyebrow of disapproval. " _My wife seems to be acting as Cupid again,_ " he thought. With a sigh, he gave the information to Dr. Grace. Then they said their good-byes. When William walked back into the living room, telling her that Dr. Grace was cancelling her plans to meet tomorrow because of the severity of the storm, he halted and stifled the urge to laugh. He had left her in the center of couch, out of reach of either arm of couch to use to help in getting up. The sight of her subsequent struggle to standup reminded him of a turtle being stuck on its back.

"Blast!" she exclaimed, "This is so annoying." She plopped back against the couch, giving up, and blew some of the steam of her exasperation out through pursed lips, causing a blond curl here and there to dangle and dance in its wind.

With a devilish grin on his face he teased, "Perhaps I can say I'm sorry now."

Playfully, she threw a pillow at him and said, "Well detective, you are certainly at least 50% responsible. That's true." He walked to her, leaned down over her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He helped her up, wincing slightly with the resulting pain he felt in his shoulder.

Standing together, her arms still embracing his neck, she stated, "Detective, I think I should take a look at that meat hook injury – How is it feeling?" He shrugged. "Mm, I see," the doctor said. She stepped back and started unbuttoning his shirt…

So quickly, the mood deepened, each feeling the breath of the other on them, changing in intensity, building, each feeling the world begin to shift and spin as their imaginations rushed forward, to what would happen next, how wonderful it would feel … smell … taste…

Julia found her eyes wide with the delight of the curves of the muscles of his chest as they appeared, more and more disclosed, with each button…

His hands stopped her progress, now down at the button just above his trousers. "Julia," he said softly. Her eyes lifted to meet his, and he felt his knees weaken, forcing him to double his resolve. "Doctor's orders, hmm?" he reminded, with a wrinkle of his face.

He watched it spread across her face – awareness and disappointment. She took a step back, the shift helping lower the attraction. Her pupils adjusted to the change, shrinking, narrowing her focus to exclude the now forbidden. Releasing a big sigh, she told him she loved him, and went back to peeling back his shirt to see his most recent injury. It was healing well, she thought. She leaned back, taking in the view of his whole chest. Her eyes danced from the new wound on his left shoulder to an old one on his right. "Well detective," she commented, "It seems you have managed to maintain a nice symmetry here, this new wound matches quite well with the bullet wound over here…" She carefully traced the old scar with her fingers, adding, "From when you were trying to find the Holy Grail, with um … Now, what was her name …" Julia teased, for she very well knew the woman's name, would likely never forget the quite alluring Dr. Iris Bejali. (Truth be told, Julia was walking a thin line, for their latest argument had been about him keeping his … _**interactions**_ , with a woman who he thought might make Julia jealous – in this most recent case, Ettie Weston – (the woman who taught him Plan C of all things) … about him keeping his plans to stay with this woman from his past, a _**secret**_ from her. In some ways, his hunt for the Grail with Dr. Bejali had involved similar decisions on his part).

Not taking the bait, William held his tongue, waiting for _her_ to "remember" Iris' name. Eventually the wait became insufferable and he chose a different tack of evasion, asking about their dinner plans.

She accepted his decision to avoid the topic, "I am making beef stew, but it will not be ready until after we share about when we first met."

While she used the bathroom, another frequent occurrence affected by the limited space available now inside of her, he tended to the pot of stew on the stove and poured her a glass of wine. He chuckled out loud to himself as he watched the red liquid swirl and fill the glass, remembering for a moment having a stumbling, very tipsy, Margaret Brackenreid ask him to teach "warm fronts" to the Inspector because they sounded so "wonderful." He walked back into the living room carrying the wine, shaking his head, still marveling at that whole outlandish situation. " _Only Ruby_ ," he thought. He wondered, the thought streaking across his mind like a shooting star, if their child would inherit some of Ruby's more distinctive traits. Julia was close to Ruby in this respect, at least in some ways, being brave, and often seeking experiences that are frowned upon by the respectable members of society. It was actually something he loved so very much about his wife – and it had served him well – pushing him outside of his comfort zone, often.

He placed the glass on the side table next to her seat. The snowy view caught his eye from the window. He walked over, pulled the curtain further back to expose more of the picturesque scene, and once again felt the effect of the view, combined with his being warm and cozy inside while looking at it, lowering the pressures on him. He heard Julia finish up in the hall bathroom, and waited for her to join him at his side.

They stood together, looking out the living room window at the snow falling. With the snow now appearing to be at least knee-deep, the wind had picked up considerably, blowing the white specks into blinding veils as it rattled and howled up against the glass panes. William pulled his wife in front of him and wrapped his arms around her as he nestled his face into her neck, letting her scent envelope him. Hearing his warm breath in her ear, she felt his hands move down over her belly, exploring, searching for, connection with the little baby inside of her. "Our little one has been quite active today," she said, guiding his hands to more likely spots.

His voice, its note somehow perfectly tuned to resonate in her soul, glided so smoothly into her brain, "Not long now, hmm?" seeming to melt it and send it into streaming swirls.

"Mm," she replied, feeling the comfort of being so close to him, wrapped in the comfy well-being of his strong, loving arms. It was one of those moments, where you know you are exactly where you are meant to be.

BUMP!

She knew he had felt it, registering the change in the charge of his body as his bloodstream jolted in response, and she noticed the immense size of her own smile as it grew with the knowledge. She turned her head in an effort to find his ear. "It appears your baby is trying to reach out and give you a hug, hmm, detective?" she whispered. Her heart warmed so as she felt his smile grow against her cheek, and felt his tender kiss in reply.

They settled back on the couch to share about their beginnings. Julia saw the wine, happily taking a sip and thanking him with an excited bulging of her eyes to demonstrate her glee. Her mind began to search her memories, working to remember what she had written when they first met. She realized, that she would likely need the journal she was using before this one, her mind picturing it sitting in a storage box up in their bedroom closet. " _Perhaps William can go first_ ," she thought.

Preparing in his mind to read to her, he decided she might need a little context, a warning of some sort, to help her better read between the lines. He knew she knew him well enough that he probably didn't need to – she would get it, he was sure, but …

Her voice broke his thoughts, "Would you go first William? I remember that we will need an earlier journal of mine to go this far back."

He shifted his position and pulled her close, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder, and then said, "I'd like to tell you a few things first."

Her heart leaped with joy. Oh how she loved these intimate moments of disclosure with this man. She had never known anything like it before. Trying to curb the thrill in her voice, lest she frighten him, she replied, "Of course." Her free hand rode up his stomach, cherishing the bulges and the bumps of the various muscles along the way, to bring her fingers up to his collar, then slide down the buttons of his shirt, settling on one, then pinching and circling it as she listened.

He cleared his throat. It seemed he had quite a lot to tell her. He reminded her that when he had first met her, he was engaged to Liza, who was very, very ill… And he knew she would die. He had already been grieving her death, or at least he thought he had been, until she actually died, and then the pain was so much worse. Although he now knew, for having fallen in love with Julia, he now knew that his love for Julia was unparalleled – he honestly believed unparalleled by all those except the very few other star-crossed lovers in the world – but he had loved Liza, and he had felt her loss deeply. He added, "As I am sure you had loved Darcy, for you have said that you did, testified to that fact even, and yet, I trust that your love for him was not the same, nor as profound, as your love for me."

"I did," she answered, "And it was not," she said quietly, as she slid her arm around him and cuddled closer. She so loved the sound of his voice emanating from his chest as she lay over him, its vibrations seeming to soothe her, and stimulate her at the same time, as they rippled across their boundaries and settled deep inside of her. There was no place she would rather be.

William took a deep breath, preparing for what would probably be harder to say. "Truth be told, Julia, I don't remember what I wrote … I suppose it will be a venture in self-discovery as well as an illumination of our shared past. But I want you to consider what you know about me before we set-off… Uh, I am not quick to identify my feelings, as you know…"

Julia's rapid nod against his chest served to solidify their connection, her enthusiastic knowledge of his ways helping him feel safer in expressing what he had felt, what he did feel, as best as he could. "Yes," she said. Intrigue had gripped her, for she so wanted to know … to know how close he had let himself get to what she now knew, to what he now knew, would be an awareness of a love that felt destined, that they had both come to accept as being meant to be.

Clearing his throat first, he continued, "I, um … think I protected myself from … from the significance of what I truly felt for you … to avoid the guilt of being … unfaithful, I guess, to my dying fiancé. Doing otherwise would have been intolerable, would have demolished my ability to see myself as a good man."

Although she could not see William's face, she still could tell that he was wrinkling the corner of his mouth like he does. She told herself to breathe, hoped he would feel her do it, to help him think to stop holding his breath, to help him feel more at ease. My God she loved him, if for nothing else, for the effort he made in trying to be true. She nodded, letting him know she was with him.

" _Well here goes_ ," he thought as he roused her to move for a moment, and leaned forward to get his journal. He pulled her back to the same place. She would be able to see his journal in his lap as he read. She watched him turn the pages, noticing that there was quite a bit of writing before the page he had finally chosen, she figured he had journaled significantly while he had worked to cope with Liza's decline.

 **I met someone today… Someone who … seemed to cause a shift inside of me, opened up an awareness of the world that I had not had before. She, and that part is significant, that** _ **she**_ **is not a** _ **he …**_ **she is our new coroner. She is astounding, emitting an air of confidence while being relaxed and comfortable … and oh, so competent. I'd venture to say, brilliant. Dr. Julia Ogden, is her name. A female doctor – now** _ **that**_ **couldn't have been easy. I guess it is no wonder that she is as capable and impressive as she is, for she would have to be outstanding to have made it through medical school as a woman. I so look forward to working on cases with her – I feel like I have found the one and only friend I have always known was out there – one who shares my enthusiasm for learning about the world, everything and anything about the world. It was not until today that I realized how alone I have been in so many ways. Somehow, I don't feel that way anymore.**

He stopped reading, having finished the entry. Leaving the little brown book open in his lap, he reached up to tuck his fingers under her chin and lift her face, wanting their eyes to meet. Just a little, she shook her head in what seemed to be disbelief. He waited, so curious and so hopeful, " _Had she seen it, in the words… Was it clear, that he had already fallen, that for him, it was she who was the one?_ "

"Oh William," she said, her voice scratchy with emotion. He watched as her eyes grew shiny and red with tears, exploding his heart with joy as they did so. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Wrapped together, perfectly content, they remained entangled for a few moments, letting the air move in and out between them. After a time, they stirred, ready to move on. William helped her up. She would use the bathroom, he would stir the stew, and then go upstairs to find her older journal. Deciding that hunger was beginning to take center stage, particularly for Julia, William left the old journal, also donned in a floral design, on the table with the others, and they moved to the kitchen to eat.

Dusk had captured the sky, creating such an odd effect as seen through the blizzardly torrents of the blazing snowstorm outside. While they ate, the phone rang…

It was the Inspector. William hurried back to the table to share the news – There would be no work tomorrow – too much snow! Excitedly, he replaced his napkin in his lap and explained, describing the calendar for their current year, 1904, "Today is December 21st, a Thursday. There is no work tomorrow, Friday, and then I am off Saturday and Sunday – and then it is Christmas on Monday. It's like a vacation! Like a magnificent, surprise, vacation!"

Julia declared, clearly as happy as she could be, "William! It really is ALMOST CHRISTMAS!"

 _ ****If they only knew … although there was no way that they possibly could have, that fate was about to send them a curve, as it had been want to do so many times before. Destiny had crafted another challenge, one that would test their faith in the knowledge that, not only when they were together were they stronger than anyone, but that the power of their love extended far beyond that, for when they were together there was truly nothing that they couldn't do.**_


	16. Chapter 16Together

Journal Journeys: Together

The Murdoch's sat together, sharing a corner of their kitchen table, eating their dinner of beef stew. The snowstorm raged on outside the window, occasionally spattering the frosty glass with cascades of tinkling ice crystals as the tiny particles yielded to the blustery wind. The mood was celebratory, for after William had been sent home from the station early today, enabling them to spend a wonderful day together, they had just received a phone call from the Inspector informing them that William would not have to go to the station tomorrow either – all because of the blizzard. Nature had given them a delightful gift, for, with the timing of the snowstorm and the weekend and then Christmas Day on Monday, it meant that William had a surprise 5 day vacation. Julia was quick to point out that the storm also tucked them in alone – together. She had him to herself for 5 days!

Shaking his head to show his amazement, bordering on disbelief, William said, "Not only do I have a wife who can cook the most delicious beef stew…" he lifted an eyebrow, evaluating his own comment and then added, "Well, as opposed to Mrs. Kitchen's…"

Knowing how much William used to complain about the older woman's meals, Julia knew she should be insulted with the comparison, thus he had earned himself a light-hearted shove in the shoulder. Only afterwards did she remember his still-sore meat hook wound, and she found herself cringing with guilt before he even registered his pained reaction. "Ouch," he declared as he reached up to rub the spot, and pretended to spook away from the threat of her continued onslaught.

"Sorry," she said, wrinkling her face in both apology and compassion. Quickly she regained her composure, however, and challenged, "But you must admit that was far from a compliment."

Her husband chuckled and nodded his head in agreement, then lifted his arms up in the air, giving up. "I really do think it tastes good, honestly," he offered.

Teasing in her tone, she asked, "Perhaps you can make up for it. Although now I am somewhat afraid to ask, but … You said there were _**two**_ things about your wife that had impressed you?"

He rewound through his memory, to find the thought that had started the whole thing. He cleared his throat and said, his eyes still sparkling from their play, but his tone much more serious now, " I was going to say how smart my wife is …" He bowed to her, continuing, "You and I are … we are much better with each other now, um … even though we were not completely so, after our arguing . And I figure you knew that reading our journals together would … bring us closer, hmm?" He reached over and took her hand.

Julia took a deep breath, happy to see his awareness of not only her intentions, but also of the problem they had been facing. She ventured to explain, "I, uh … I found myself still feeling a bit out of sorts – with you…" He nodded. She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice, increasing the intimacy, like she was sharing a secret. "I so wanted to be able to … Well, it's just that, I knew if we could make love, well then, I knew we'd be right as rain again. Mind you…" she leaned even closer and her face took on a mischievous grin, "Either type of, _storm front_ , as you call them, would have done … But we couldn't," she justified. "And I remembered how lovely, and close, we usually felt when we shared our journals, and so, well I thought…"

Still holding her hand, he reached over with his other one to place his fingers under her chin and then softly rubbed her chin with his thumb, whispering, "It was brilliant," evoking a shy smile from her, before he went back to reclaim his fork and continue with his dinner.

She watched him as she took a sip of her wine. Her memory replayed the words that he had written, from after they had first met, " _I feel like I have found the one and only friend I have always known was out there."_ " _That is and always was definitely part of their bond_ ," she thought – " _friendship_ ," although she believed he had used the word "friend" at the time, more so, because he was still engaged to Liza, than because he didn't feel the sparks of romantic love… but perhaps, in the end, it was because they had started out as such good friends that they had ended up such remarkable lovers. She chuckled as she thought about what she remembered writing after first meeting him, or really, more after the first time she _**saw**_ him. Her sudden giggle drew his attention…

"Julia?" he asked, chewing and looking at her, wondering what was so funny.

"Oh William," she answered, fighting back her laughter, "I was just thinking about how you wrote about us being friends – and …" her voice grew more serious, "…it was so lovely, and so true – we were, great friends. And we still are, hmm?" He nodded, clearly still waiting for the funny part. A huge smile slid on her face as she prepared to tell him…

"What?" he asked again.

She swallowed and said, "Well, um … from what I remember about what I wrote after we first met … Well …" She couldn't do it. She was just too embarrassed, dropping her eyes away from his, and shaking her head. She felt him still looking at her and she talked herself into trying to tell him again. When she lifted her eyes back to meet his, she was clearly blushing.

"Julia," he said, his curiosity curling his lips into a smile.

"All right. All right. I'll tell you," she said. She looked away – to the side for a moment, encouraging herself, preparing the words. BAM, she looked back – took his eyes firmly and said, "I believe I was quite taken by your, um … derriere."

William's mouth fell open with disbelief. Unable to speak, instead he just said, "Uh…uh…" before she bent forward with embarrassed laughter. Of course he joined her, laughing too. Soon recovered, he took a deep breath and asked, with one eye somewhat squinting at her with doubt, "But I don't remember ever …um, showing you … that side of me at the time," pushing the words out at the end before he giggled, turning red now himself.

She explained that the first time she saw him, he did not see her. Rather, she had come out of the morgue to get into the carriage that they would use to transport the bodies of Clayton Bowles and his parents back to the morgue. She had glanced his way just as William stepped up into the constabulary carriage, only catching the sight of his backside as he got in to be driven to the crime scene. She asked her driver if that was Detective Murdoch getting into the carriage, and the driver had said yes, although he was surprised the man was not taking his bicycle, for that was what he usually did. He informed her that most of the men in the morgue actually called him, "the bicycle detective." She remembered thinking, " _Well that explains his excellent … shape_." It was soon after that that they met face-to-face, which she had to admit, only increased her attraction to him.

She reached over and took his hand. "I guess I was more free to let myself imagine the romantic possibilities between us, as I was not engaged to someone else as you were," she offered. Playing with his wedding ring while they held hands, she wanted to ask him if his _friend_ , the Madame – Ettie Weston, the woman they had most recently argued about, had noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring, but she thought better of it. Instead she told him that she admired him for wearing it, knowing most men would not.

"Actually," he replied, "It makes things easier."

"Oh, I see," Julia teased. "Does your wedding ring deter all of those abundant women each day that make passes at you, William?" she asked, a charge of feigned jealousy in her voice.

Failing to hold back his blushing, unfortunately suggesting to his wife that she may be calling it right, he swallowed and answered that it seemed to deter some of them.

"And the others?" she asked.

"Well, then I have to deter them myself, don't I?" he responded, gaining some confidence, letting her know her husband was sometimes propositioned, but reassuring her that she had nothing to worry about at the same time. He was certain it was the same for her, having seen men flirt with her right in front of him, particularly before they were married.

She accepted the situation with a nod and polite smile, and then pushed away her plate, still half covered in beef stew. "That is all I can eat right now," she explained.

Proudly, for it supported his claim that he found her cooking to be delicious, William displayed his exceptionally clean plate, having wiped away every last drop of stew with his bread. "I must say, Julia, I teased you about your cooking at first, but I should have known you would end up good at it in the end – you are a master of chemistry after all, and is not cooking just applied chemistry in the end?" he asked, looking for her to acknowledge the compliment, not just to her cooking, but also to her adeptness at her profession.

"Yes, that is very wise," she concluded, as she pushed her chair back from the table.

William jumped up from his seat quickly to insist, "No. Allow me to clean up. You relax," as he reached for the plates. He would put everything away, placing the unfinished stew in the ice box, and he would load up the dishwashing cupboard. As he talked about the struggles they had had getting the right dish-soap composition in the beginning, at first resulting in a complete flooding of the kitchen floor in suds, he hesitated when he noticed that she was not paying attention. "Julia?" he asked.

She had been remembering when they had made love, reluctantly using Plan C for they both hungered for the more traditional method, just a few weeks ago, right there, on this table – and against the wall there. As she had followed the twisting path of her thoughts, she now found herself thinking of the future, of what their child would be like. She noticed so clearly, the conflict between worry and hope in her heart. She heard him call, through the misty web of her thoughts, drawing her back into the present. "Yes," she replied, her voice sleepy and far off.

"Are you alright?" he asked, now finished with his tasks.

"William …" she said, sounding as if she had resolved something in her mind. She stood, and he came to stand in front of her.

He reached out for a curl, "Hmm?" he asked.

Her fingers found his open shirt collar as she continued, "We will be parents soon. And life will start to move even more quickly …"

His fingers slid deeper into the bun in her air, with his thumb feeling so lovely as it glanced and played with her ear. A small chuckle escaped his throat before he agreed, lifting a brow at her to highlight his point, "Probably more so than we can even imagine."

Julia slid her arms up around his neck, moving closer to her husband. "It might be our last chance, before the whirlwind of parenthood begins, to prepare, to reflect on what we hope for our child…" She wrinkled her face, requesting, "I think it might be … well, insightful, if we each wrote our baby a note … If we wrote, in our journals let's say, if we wrote to our child our wishes and hopes." She held his eyes, wondering…

Playfully, he lifted a discerning eyebrow at her and said, "Mrs. Murdoch, are you trying to distract me so you will not have to read me your scandalous thoughts from when we first met?"

Holding her own when it came to such banter, she replied, "I do believe, Mr. Murdoch, that those writings of which you speak are quite, shall we say, titillating, and may be better left to when we can do something about …" she leaned in to find his ear and whisper her hot breath into it as she finished, "… the urges they will likely evoke."

He took her into his arms, sliding his hands around her waist and held her lower back as he stepped in closer to her, then he tilted his head, and she felt his breath on her ear. "Well then, writing to our child would be lovely," his words sang as they slipped into her brain and then seeped down towards her soul. He had wishes too, for their child. She was sure they were wonderful. "I'll get the journals and two pens … We can do it here?" She agreed with a kiss to his cheek

So, they sat together at the kitchen table and recorded their thoughts and feelings about what they each hoped for, what advice they would give to, their child. After a time, they had each seemed to reach a finishing point. Before they shared, William offered to make some hot chocolate, and once again, Julia needed to use the bathroom.

After she left the bathroom, and waddled down the hall, around the corner and then down the short hallway to the kitchen, she heard it – he was humming. A big smile took her face as a sense of comfort and bliss percolated in her heart. " _He does have quite a nice voice,_ " she thought. His back was to her as he stirred the pot of hot chocolate on the stove. She imagined it first, she would walk up behind him, slide her arms around his waist and then up his firm chest, and feel her body press against his. She would find his ear, " _Is that humming I hear, detective?_ " she would ask him, before she took a little nibble …

But then… suddenly … everything changed.

There was a pain … a sharp pain. A grunt surged out of her chest. The peace pierced by its sound – joined with the small splash of liquid hitting the floor. Their eyes met – wide with fear, for they both already knew – the danger.

Julia's voice squeaked, "It's too soon!"

She was in his arms quickly, "Julia!" he cried.

Failing in fighting back the terror, tears forming in her eyes, she screamed, "We have to get Isaac! I have to get to the hospital!"

He felt frozen. His head turned side-to-side, trying to reject the obvious, and his mouth stumbled, "I … I… Uh," terrifying her even more.

"William!" she yelled.

It was the snowstorm. They both knew it was the snowstorm … That made both of these things (getting her to the hospital or getting Isaac here) impossible.

Panic had overtaken her, "Oh my God William, I don't want to die! And the baby …"

His mind worked to calm down. " _We still have time,_ " he told himself. He needed to help her get control of herself … And he needed to call Isaac … And he needed to call the hospital for an ambulance … His thoughts seemed to halt there, for neither action offered a path that seemed likely to work in this storm. " _Her first_ ," he advised himself, " _Take care of her first._ "

William swallowed and coached himself to lower the tone of his voice, to reassure, to soothe her, "Julia," he said, holding her wide blue eyes to his with all his might, "Listen to me. We will find a way. We still have time yet." He breathed as deeply as he could make himself, asking her to meet his rhythm, with her breath, with her heartbeat, with her mind. She tried, receiving a nod from him, "That's it," he encouraged. "Now, let's go to the phone, hmm?" he asked. She nodded.

There was no answer at Isaac's home or office. "Perhaps he got stuck elsewhere in the storm," Julia reasoned, a calmer tone now present in her voice, though there was a sadness he detected that worried him. It would be essential that she did not give up hope. He knew that.

He answered her thoughts, "Well, perhaps he is at the hospital … and if not, there are other doctors who can perform the procedure." He dialed up the hospital. As he spoke to the nurse on the phone, he found he wished Julia were not standing next to him to hear the bad news… but she was. They did not know where Dr. Tash was, but they would try to find him and notify him of their situation. Yes, there were other doctors there who could perform the surgery, with a little studying first. But there was no way to get Julia to them. The snow was reportedly nearly 3 feet deep, making any efforts to get an ambulance or a carriage or sled of any type to their home, and then back to the hospital with her, absolutely impossible. They entertained the idea of sending a doctor to their house – Julia had her medical bag, and many medical supplies, in the house. The nurse recommended they try Victoria Children's Hospital for Sick Children because it was closest to their home – perhaps a doctor from there could make it sooner. William agreed to try that hospital first before their hospital sent a doctor out into the blizzard.

Before he placed the call to the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children, he called George at the stationhouse. "Of course," Julia declared, "George can get Dr. Grace!" William nodded with a bit of a smile. He heard hope in her voice.

George answered right away. "Emily is with George at the station!" William declared excitedly. Relief flooded through Julia, prompting her to take a deep breath. "They are going to try riding horses through the snow. They are leaving right now," he said.

Wanting to talk with Emily, knowing there were some things she should bring from the morgue, Julia stopped them from ending the call and spoke with the other doctor. "We will need something for anesthesia. All I have here is chloroform, although that could work … And suction – bring that device I showed you – that Rebecca and I put together … Yes, very fortunate… Oh, and Emily, in the cold room you will find ten petri dishes with a mold growing in them. Bring one of them with you. I want you to treat me with it after the procedure. Rebecca knows how to prepare and administer it – and I'll leave written instructions as well… It's something a doctor discovered in France. It cures guinea pigs of typhoid… Yes … Please hurry," she finished and then hung up the phone. Julia explained to William that she had described the procedure for the transverse Cesarean section in detail to Emily on her previous visit. She was certainly glad for it now.

They called the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children and requested an ambulance be sent to their home as soon as possible. Then they prepared the house for the impending surgery. William made sure the door was open, so George and Dr. Grace and those with the ambulance could enter the moment they arrived. He decided to shovel the path and open the gate for the same reasons, even though it seemed somewhat futile as the strong winds continued to blow snow about, undoing most of his work.

They set the dining room up as the room for the procedure because there was more space around what would be the _operating_ table, and it was close enough to the kitchen to enable quick access to the sink and even boiled water from the stove to ensure more sterile hands and to clean the baby with later. They had covered the table in a clean shower curtain and nailed it down at the edges under the table. Two chairs were placed at the head of the table a couple of feet apart so that Julia could bend a knee over each one. That way her pelvis would be right at the edge of the table and her legs would be out of the way, so Dr. Grace could most easily perform the surgery. Julia checked her medical bag to ensure it was complete with heat-sterilized scalpels and other implements, as well as rubber gloves, surgical masks, sterilized Elephant-ear sponges, carbolic acid, mercury chloride, alcohol, and iodine. Although many of her colleagues were not overly concerned with micro-organisms, she was. Knowing the most likely cause of her death would be post-surgical infection, she wanted to take every precaution. She also wrote down the instructions for Emily to give her the _Penicillium glaucum_ mold discovered by Ernest Duchesne in 1897.

Then they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Julia's contractions were growing in intensity and coming closer and closer together. It had been nearly two hours since Emily and George had left the station. Julia found herself losing hope after she had reminded herself that Isaac had told them that there was an 85% success rate with this surgery, and that she and William had eventually decided to take the chance rather than have her have an abortion, and how she had struggled so much to convince William to let her try to have the baby, but now she was troubled that perhaps they were going to be the losing 15%, and William would be left alone in the end. The thoughts threatened to break her heart.

William found himself worrying as well – he knew George had little talent on a horse. He was not sure about Dr. Grace. He pictured the two of them riding through the blinding snow, the white barrier nearly rubbing up against their mounts' bellies, ice crystals protruding from the noses of the horses as they slowly inched forward, step after step, through the whitened darkness.

Julia suggested she actually get up on the table, to be more ready, and he joined her. The first contraction she had once on the table sent a bolt of emergency through them both. "Try not to push," he advised as she buckled over and screamed with all her might. The pain was unimaginable, as the strongest muscles in the human body surged to maximum power in an effort to send the baby through its tiny passage. In Julia's case, her body was only working against itself, for the passageway would not widen, would never widen, sufficiently for the baby's head to fit through. The scarring from her abortion had rendered that path unattainable. But, _**my God**_ , the _**pain**_ it created as it tried was insufferable. With this contraction, Julia had nearly fainted away. Dizziness surrounded her and she showed signs of being in shock, shivering, sweating, and she was oh so nauseous. The severity seemed to last forever, finally subsiding, when Julia yielded to the nausea and vomited over the side of the table.

William pulled her back to him in the middle of the table and wiped her face off with a dish towel. She looked pale. "I don't think they are going to make it in time, William," she said.

He sat her up, thinking it would be better for the nausea, and he sat behind her with her in between his legs so she could lean back against him, and he held her in his arms. He reminded himself to stay calm and alert. He could not promise her that help would arrive in time although he wished he could. _Perhaps there was another way …_

"I'm scared William," she said quietly, almost in a whisper.

It was a way of looking – he knew he needed it now. A mysterious, intense combination of focus and alertness to _**all**_ possibilities along the periphery, while remaining soft, open, able to receive what came – to become acutely aware of what was there, and what could be made out of it. Deep down, he knew it as faith… And he had never known it so solidly, so deeply down into his marrow, as when he was with her. " _Together_ ," he thought, " _I know we can do this together_."

"Julia," he said, the confidence and optimism in his voice somehow electrifying her soul, "I know we can do this. You are not meant to die here. Not when we are together. Not when we are so close. We cannot give up. We will find a way. I know it." He felt her nod in front of him, against his chest.

He took a deep breath. "Teach me how to do it," he said plain as day.

Her heart raced with the enormity of it! They would not have long – her contractions would soon lead to internal bleeding, if they hadn't already, and eventually there would be uterine rupture. Her mind raced so fast she seemed to defy gravity. He had already learned much of the details of the procedure due to his own natural curiosity. He was incredibly capable, remarkably effective with his hands, calm under pressure, a quick study. He had seen so much in her morgue… if anybody could do this? – It was him! She sensed another contraction would hit within a minute or so. She started…

"We will need the Pediatrics book and an article down in the basement in the lab," she said, out of breath, but businesslike in tone… "And William, you will need to practice the angle and pressure needed with the scalpel – Let's use the chicken in the ice box … You can learn how to suture with it too."

Within a half hour, Julia lay in position on the _operating_ table – along with a small box lined with towels waiting to hold the newborn baby, a book opened to a diagram of the bones, muscles and uterus of a female pelvis, a journal article depicting the low transverse incision of the skin on the abdomen and another diagram depicting a low transverse incision of the uterus, her medical bag on the chair that was holding her left knee – to his, _to the surgeon's_ , right, a needle and its catgut sutures already threaded, a suction tool, surgical sponges – opened, and iodine, all at the ready. On the floor there was a pot of boiled water, and a few feet away, a chicken with several scalpel wounds in its skin, each sutured up tight. Her last contraction was dangerously brutal, and she was due another one soon. Inhaling the chloroform would likely stop it from occurring as she would be rendered unconscious, and thus, she hoped to start the procedure before the contraction began.

She knew he was ready, he knew time was of the essence for she would be bleeding out, and he knew the steps:

Smile-shaped 8 inch incision just above pubic bone, angle nearly parallel with the scalpel to cut through only the skin;

Move any muscle or tissue aside to see uterus, can use turkey-baster-like instrument for suctioning out of blood and all _**five**_ surgical sponges;

Similar incision on uterus, with slightly steeper angle with scalpel for deeper cut;

Look for infant's head; pull infant out and place in box;

Inhale over infant's nose and mouth to suck out and remove nasal plugs and liquid, should trigger breathing response, if not, then one or two attempts at resuscitation;

Use umbilical cord to help remove placenta and examine placenta for missing fragments, particularly around tear from when water broke;

Remove any missing fragments of placenta from uterus if necessary, suction if needed;

Suture incision in uterus (by threading through both sides of incision, make loop in origin end, go through loop, around base and back through loop other way, repeat about quarter inch further;

Remove all five sponges, and suction to remove excess blood in abdomen;

Administer mercury chloride on incision of uterus;

Suture skin of abdomen same way, and administer mercury chloride on sutured incision;

Tend to Julia's breathing and pulse in case need to resuscitate;

Tend to baby, resuscitate if needed, and cut umbilical cord from placenta.

He stood at the foot of the table, rubber gloves and surgical mask on. Risking breaking his concentration and confidence, she decided to say what she needed to say, "William, please know that however this turns out, I love you with all of my heart, and I know that the same is true of you for me. I love you, even more than is possible, for trying to save us, even if you fail…" His eyes so gorgeous above the surgical mask, they held hers as he soaked in her words, and they imprinted on his soul… "And William, I remember the words you wrote to me in the telegram you never sent, with your proposal – that, "As long as I exist in this world, there will be no other for you… And …" she swallowed, pushing away the emotion and the tears, "I want you to know that I want you to find another if I die William, for I won't " _ **exist in the world**_ ," anymore … And I don't want you to be alone." She saw his eyes tear-up and she instantly both, regretted, and was relieved, that she had told him. She smiled the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and said, as she brought the chloroformed towel towards her face, "Do your best detective."

He watched as she inhaled. He wanted to tell her he loved her, more than anything in this world, more than life itself, he loved her… And he knew he could not live without her … But, being pulled by such emotions threatened everything now, and he needed to stay focused and centered. "You do the same please, doctor. We are in this together," he said…

So quickly she looked to be unconscious. He tested before cutting into her, "Julia?" he called. Receiving no answer, he began.

He coached himself through the procedure, hearing her voice, her teaching, her confidence in him in his mind at each step. It felt more as if she were standing at his shoulder than lying on the table, " _Now William, the uterus will not look like it does in the picture, it will be much more stretched out" … And, "Remember to push against the surface first, and slide it over the tissues or the fetus below, to help you determine how deep your cut will need to be" … And, "Even if you are tempted to either, quickly stop tending to the baby to get back to me, or to stay with the baby after you have removed the nasal plugs because it isn't breathing even if you tried to resuscitate it for a few breaths, it is important to_ **get back to me** **after** **you take these steps** _, because the baby's chance of survival will not change much after you have taken those steps, and I will be in danger of bleeding-out if you take too long._ " As he worked, he found the large amount of blood pooling inside of her rendered it impossible to see what he was to cut – even with the suction and the five surgical sponges, finding that instead he needed to _feel_ the depth and angle and length of the uterine incision, and later the sutures as well, _feel_ for the right tissues to push aside and the ones to cut, _feel_ the baby's shoulder – _feel_ to find its head, and later _feel_ the placenta lift away from the uterine wall as he gently pulled on the umbilical cord it was attached to.

He had been worried that the baby wasn't breathing, but _it_ – _**HE - Their baby was a he!**_ – But _he_ inhaled and immediately began to cry right after William felt, and tasted, needing to fight against his reaction, "yuck!" – to the nasal plugs and fluid in his mouth, before he spit is all out! " _Get back to me_ ," he heard her say in his mind as the excitement temporarily threatened to distract him. The baby was so covered in blood it was impossible to make much out beyond his gender anyway. William followed the umbilical cord back into the womb and focused on removing the placenta, trying to hear his teacher's voice in his mind more so than that of his newborn son's.

William was only about an inch away from completing the sutures on the uterus when he heard the front door. "We're in here," he called out, though there would likely have been no need to do so, for the baby was still crying, alerting Dr. Grace to their location in the house.

She ran into the dining room and quickly halted with her surprise, "Oh my God! … Detective?" she declared as she put down her bag. Her eyes darted between looking at him, and then Julia on the table, and then the baby crying from under the towels in the box.

Sounding amazingly calm and collected, though truth be told, panic was harbored just below the surface – he was not sure Julia was breathing correctly, he greeted her, "Dr. Grace."

He heard the front door slam as George rushed to join them and he had to remind himself that, although he was relieved at no longer being alone trying to make this work, the job was far from through. "Perhaps you could check on Julia's breathing, and pulse, doctor?" he asked.

Emily rushed to Julia's side. She heard a rattling in her throat that was problematic. " _Likely stomach acids getting into lungs,_ " she thought. "We should elevate her," she instructed. She sent George for pillows to prop under her and went to see how William's work was progressing. "Are you sure you got all of the placenta out?" she asked, recognizing that he was in the process completing the last stitch of the suturing of the uterine wall. "And did you use any surgical sponges," she asked, knowing that he did for she saw at least two of them within Julia's abdomen wall, "Any inside of the uterus?" she clarified.

"No sponges in the uterus," he replied with his eyes keenly focused on the task before him. William explained, "I checked the placenta…" His eyes guided hers to the placenta and umbilical cord lying on the table next to the box with the baby in it. She noticed that the umbilical cord had not yet been cut from the placenta, and at first glance she ascertained that the placenta did seem free of missing fragments.

George hurried back into the room with the pillows and handed them to Emily. He lifted Julia up and Emily tucked the pillows under her. William continued, "The placenta seemed whole. The tear from when her water broke did not appear to be missing any fragments, and I could see the incision I had made. It was clean across the tissues and the rest seemed well connected all the way around to where it joined up with the umbilical cord."

Emily reassured him, "That sounds completely right detective. Would you like me to finish … with the suturing of her abdomen?" she asked. She turned her attention back to Julia, noticing her breathing had improved.

William nodded, "Yes, I'm sure Julia would prefer that, seeing as she will have the scar for the rest of her life," he said with a smile, deferring to Dr. Grace's superior skills, and displaying his wish that all would turn out fine in the end.

"Sir," George called out excitedly, "You have a son!" having explored the baby in the box more closely.

Still holding the needle and thread in his hand as he waited for Emily to suture up the final incision, William replied, "Yes George! Would you mind using some of that warm, sterilized water there to clean him up?" he asked.

"I'd be honored sir," George replied with a big grin. He wrung out the cloth, pulled back the towels warming the infant, and while speaking to the boy with soothing baby-talk, he began to clean off his rusty-colored, blood-ridden skin.

After declaring Julia's state of wellbeing passable, Dr. Grace came to William's end of the table to take over the final step of the procedure. Just as she was about to take the needle she remembered she needed to wash her hands. She took the iodine from Julia's bag and rushed to the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she insisted.

"Sir … Dr. Grace!?" George called. The baby seems to have been cut, on the shoulder here – I think with your scalpel sir," George warned. William leaned over, trying to see.

"Is it bad George?" Emily called out, already returning from the kitchen. She stopped to examine the injury. "It will need a few stitches," she stated. "Here," she said, passing him a bandage roll from her bag she brought from the morgue, "Wrap this around it for now."

She put on a mask and gloves from Julia's bag and she confidently took the needle from William. She noticed he had removed five blood-soaked sponges and placed them in an orderly line on the table in her short absence. "You counted the sponges … they are all out?" she asked. He nodded. She asked him to use the suction device she had brought with her from the morgue to remove more of the blood pooling in the abdomen, which he did. Soon, she told him she was able to finish the rest on her own. He was happy to cede the job, as well as control of the whole situation, to her. As soon as he stepped back, he felt his world nearly fall apart with emotion and exhaustion and relief and worry. He dried his hands on a towel and he rushed to Julia's side.

Characteristically, he reached up to rub his forehead. Never before in his life could he remember feeling such stress… perhaps when he was digging her up from Gillies' grave – maybe. And if that was the analogy, then she wasn't safely in his arms yet. He stroked her face, "Julia," he said, "I'm right here. We have a son, Julia." He leaned down very close to her ear and told her he loved her, more than anything in this world, more than life itself, he loved her… And he knew he could not live without her… And she had to fight her hardest to be alright, because he needed her so much, and now their son did too. He was sure they were all meant to be together, the three of them. She had to be strong. She had to hold on to life with all her might.

After Dr. Grace had completed the final suturing on Julia's abdomen, she turned to tend to the infant – he needed some suturing as well, and she needed to cut the umbilical cord and tie up his belly-button. As she worked, William crawled up to lay with his wife on the table. From there he asked, "Dr. Grace, Julia has obviously lost a great deal of blood. Is that why she is still unconscious? I would have thought she would have roused from the chloroform by now?"

Nodding her head, quickly deciding there was no point to protecting him from the truth, Emily replied, "Yes, that is very likely the reason."

William abruptly sat up; clearly he had had an idea! "Doctor, could we do a blood transfusion. I will give her some of my blood!" He saw the skepticism on her face and hurried to explain, "I know. I know. You, of all people would be concerned with whether or not our blood types are compatible, being the one to discover type 'C' blood, but, if you will remember, we brought you to Dr. Lucas Harwick... And we were able to do that because of a case…"

George inserted himself, remembering the case as well, "Oh yes, it was so interesting Emily – about vampires."

"Oh!" the doctor's eyes bulged expressing her intrigue. Now finished suturing the infant's arm, she lifted the baby into her arms and worked to stop his crying.

"Never mind the vampires," the detective urged, "The point is that Julia and I are compatible! I'm certain of it! Do we have what we need here to do a transfusion?" he eagerly asked.

The baby boy was quieting down and Dr. Grace handed him to George. She considered the procedure in question, deciding that they did have all the necessary supplies. Quickly, they set up the needles and the tubes and, within a few meager minutes, William's blood was flowing into Julia. He watched as Dr. Grace listened to her heart and took her blood pressure. He already knew it was working – for he could see Julia's face becoming less and less blanched, but he was still quite relieved when Dr. Grace declared that her vitals were improving.

The phone rang, George answered it. It was Dr. Tash. The hospital had found him at a patient's house where he had gotten stuck in the snowstorm. William and Emily strained to hear from the dining room. They heard George say, "No, Dr. Grace didn't really do the surgery sir … No, it was the detective… Yes. Really sir. Dr. Grace only finished with the final set of stitches… He's, um … they are doing a blood transfusion… No! No, doctor! They determined it was safe… I'll get her." He raised his voice, yelling, "Dr. Grace, Dr. Tash would like to speak with you."

Emily left to take the call. She warned, "We need to stop the transfusion soon. You will lose too much blood." She spoke into the phone, low enough that she knew the detective could not hear, "I'm sure Julia would not have let him do it if it wasn't necessary … She must have believed she was running out of time waiting for me." Then she raised her voice, calling from the foyer, "Detective, Dr. Tash said Julia was treating you with a new medicine, _Penicillium glaucum_. Do you know if you still have any in the house?"

Excited, William answered, "Yes, she was administering it to me for my impalement wound… from being hung on the meat hook… There were injections, in the muscle, and pills too." Despite being relieved that they would have a means to start fighting Julia's infections – William's heart grew heavy, for he – they – had always known the biggest risk to Julia's life when they chose to try this procedure would be subsequent infection, of course at the time they hadn't considered the potential risks of the weather on carrying out the procedure. As far as infection was concerned, he knew the situation would likely grow more grave, even if they did administer this new medicine right away. He reminded himself that Julia had been very impressed with how it had worked on him.

As he saw Dr. Grace rush back into the room and begin to clamp off the blood flow between himself and Julia, he had to admit he was feeling a little faint. Unbeknownst to him, he did drop out of consciousness. Emily reassured George that the detective would be alright and sent him to search the house for the described medicine. It had already been given to Julia by the time William came around. There was still no sign of the ambulance from Victoria's Hospital for Sick Children.

When William finally got a chance to see, to really, really look into the eyes of his son, he was absolutely floored by the experience. His whole life changed in that moment. He knew it, felt the impact, as his body, his mind, and his soul tried to adjust to the rumbling and shifting of the world – he would never, ever be the same, ever again. The drive, the urgent, inescapable call, and the unshakeable need to care for and protect this child encompassed his entire being, from atom to atom, from cell to cell, from feeling to feeling, and from thought to thought. He had no choice. He was this little man's father – him, and only him, for the rest of his days, until his dying breath. His mind fell into prayer, thanking God for the chance to know his son, and asking for the strength he would need to do whatever it would take to meet the awesome responsibility. And oh, how he wanted Julia to live to know this feeling – to be able to share it with her, with his one and only, with his soul-mate.

He would try to wake her – carefully lifting the infant, his fingers holding the tiny child's heavy head against the flowing of gravity, protecting the boy's neck from snapping backwards, he brought William Jr. with him, tucked tight against his chest. He sat next to his wife, his child's mother, on the table and called her name, lightly slapped his hand against her cheek, tried to rouse her.

George and Emily shared a compassionate look. The doctor thought to use smelling salts. She waved the small bottle under Julia's nose, allowing the pungent vapors to waft into her nasal passages. William gasped as she stirred, twitched away from the bottle, and moaned, the sound revealing her agonizing pain. But there was no more than that. Dr. Grace tried to offer comfort to the detective, stating Julia's reaction had been a good sign, and she was sure she would regain consciousness eventually on her own.

William thought to thank them for being there and for coming through so much to help … to help bring their godson into this world. He asked George to make a fire in living room. They would wait there for the ambulance, which had already taken more than four hours to arrive. He returned the baby to the box and went upstairs where he quickly cleaned up and changed, then brought down a fresh dress for Julia. With Dr. Grace's help, they changed Julia out of the blood-stained dress she had been wearing.

They would take her and the baby into the living room, lay her in the reclining chair near the fire, and place the baby with her. He wanted the baby to be near her – for him to smell her familiar scent and have the calming feeling of being at home that could only come from being in contact with her body. He would join her in the reclining chair, as they had done together so many times in the past – ever since that first time so many years before, in his office, after they had fought, about her choosing to marry Darcy and him not stopping her, and they had talked through their first big argument, solidifying their love, it turned out to be, for all time. He took solace in the fact that he knew they had done all they could do. And he remembered as he lay there with them, with his family, that Julia had once told him that the baby knew his father's voice and the happiness and comfort that comes with it, so he talked calmly to the child and to his wife, even after the tiny baby's eyes had remained closed and he was sure his newborn son was fast asleep.

George and Emily were also exhausted, but Emily signaled for George to get off of his comfy couch and join her in the other room. She suggested they clean up the mess from Julia's surgery, explaining that, particularly if Julia died, the task would be insurmountable for the detective to undertake alone. Loyalty triggered George's second wind, and he agreed.

William awakened to the dimly lit light in the early hours of the morning, the fire had gone out, and he was still in the reclining chair with his wife and his tiny son. George stood before him, whispering that the ambulance had finally come. George explained he was going to go try to find the horses he and Dr. Grace had ridden through the blizzard from the stationhouse the night before, elaborating to tell him that the horses had made discernible tracks in the snow, and he hoped the animals had not succumbed to the harsh conditions of the storm. William had been paying attention to Julia's body, felt its warmth and the heartening waves of her breathing as they lifted his arm and their little baby up and down to ride the ripples, grateful that she was still alive.

His mind wandered, somehow dividing and chasing after multiple thoughts – he would try again to wake her; and she seemed to be doing better than he had expected; and the baby seemed fine too; and he worried for the constabulary's little chestnut horse, Sonny, for the horse had saved his life many times before, particularly when he helped gallop after Sally Pendrick and her "Microwave Death Ray," and he felt he owed the horse for his dedication and bravery, and he hoped the horse had not finally given his life to help William save those of his wife and his son.

As soon as William moved, the baby awakened and began to cry and wail. He was likely extremely hungry, and William realized that feeding him was likely to become a big problem, considering all that noise had not done a thing to stir Julia. He tried to wake her to little avail, for the best he got was a weak moan. There was no way around it; his failure to awaken her terrified him.

The drivers put Julia on a stretcher and William held the baby while covering her with a blanket, and they carried her listless body out to the ambulance in the street. Emily made sure they brought along the placenta and umbilical cord, explaining the doctors would want to examine it to determine whether or not any pieces had been left in the uterus.

The "ambulance," really a horse-drawn sleigh, would not be able to turn around to head back to the hospital – it's only option being to move forward into the 3-foot high snowy barrier that lie in front of it, and then go around another way. William stood for a moment before climbing up into the ambulance, his son wrapped tightly in some towels, still wailing away in his arms, to see George returning with both horses. They would be ridden out in front of the ambulance, helping to pack down the snow to clear a path for the ambulance. He thanked Sonny in his thoughts.

Nearly two hours later, they arrived at the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children, a pink-orange predawn light whispering across the sky. Ironically, it was this hospital which had hired Dr. Darcy Garland, thus enabling Julia to return to Toronto. Subsequently, while Dr. Garland was still Julia's husband, he had been promoted to Chief Administrator. William sighed, though it was barely noticeable as the infant in his arms cried so severely it drew all attention. He wondered if he and Julia would be welcomed here, more plainly, he doubted it. Many of the hospital's staff members had been in attendance at Julia's trial. They seemed to have wanted revenge on her for their beloved leader's murder, seemed happy with the court's final verdict of guilty, seemed happy to see her hang. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been unwelcome someplace, he reminded himself, thinking of the myriad of times he'd been told to use the tradesman's entrance. It stirred a fierceness in him now, though, now that their rejection threatened to harm his wife and his son.

His eyes dropped down to Julia as she lay on the stretcher, and the drivers prepared to unload their cargo. Although she was unconscious again, she had nearly awakened twice during the long journey. Both times moving, and moaning, but not opening her eyes. Now however, as the stretcher breached the entrance to the hospital, he heard her call his name. Her eyes were still closed, but he knew she heard him, and likely their still-crying baby as well. "Julia," he told her, nearly running alongside, "We are in the hospital. I have our son. You are going to be alright…" before they reached the end of the hall and the doctors took her away.

Almost immediately, a nurse took William Jr. from him as well. He listened as his little son's crying grew quieter and quieter with distance, finally stifled, likely behind a closed door. He sat. He waited. He noticed them, heard them, nurses and orderlies and doctors, looking sideways at him and whispering.

"Yes, that's him...She was married to Dr. Garland…"

"I remember him from the trial… an affair..."

"The Queen's Hotel! Disgraceful! …Why are they here?"

"… a son. Detective Murdoch … father."

About an hour later, a nurse walked up to him. "Detective Murdoch?" she asked, though he was sure she already knew he was.

"Yes," he replied.

"I'll show you to your wife's room," she said. He followed her down the hall – thanked her. As he sat in a chair next to the empty bed, she hesitated at the door. She turned back and said, "They tried to get your baby to nurse, but they were unsuccessful. It seems your wife is unable to stay conscious long enough to allow for breastfeeding. They used a breast pump to obtain some milk."

William was sure the despair showed on his face. He felt his own effort not to let his eyes tear. He pushed himself past the emotions, "Thank you," he told her, grateful at least for the news.

The young nurse stepped closer. "She will be alright sir," she said, offering William his first ray of compassion. Her kindness weakened his defenses, and the tears came. He nodded, trying oh so hard to find his sense of hope. The woman's face melted as she watched him. She came close. "Don't worry detective," she said, "Your son looks to be quite healthy … and Dr. Ogden is coming into and out of consciousness, each time unconscious for a shorter interval of time. She is getting better. I'm sure soon she will be fine and the baby will be nursing… You'll see," she encouraged. William wiped a tear from his cheek and thanked her again.

It was only a few minutes until another nurse came into the room carrying William Jr. An orderly was with her and they had a small basinet which they placed in the room near the chair William had been sitting in. The baby was quiet. William noticed the nurse had a bottle of milk. She introduced herself as the charge nurse on the floor, Nurse Miriam. She explained that the baby had been lightly sedated to calm him down in the hopes that he would nurse – which he didn't. Julia was being checked over more thoroughly. She shook her head, seeming more with disdain than with disbelief when she added, "They want to see how much … _ **damage**_ …" (She had stressed the word). "… you caused in the end." She believed Julia was unconscious and was running a fever, but the doctor would be there soon to talk with him. He heard the woman mutter under her breath, seeming to be talking to the orderly, "Not that this lot deserves any care mind you," before she left.

Somewhat stunned by her unkindness, William's eyes turned to the little basinet. They had left the bottle on the dresser in the room. _"Am I intended to try to feed the baby_ ," he wondered? Deciding there could be no harm in trying, he lifted the tiny, tiny baby as tenderly as he could. The baby whined and fussed, his eyes remaining closed. His face soon wrinkled up though. And William was sure he was about to cry. Holding the baby in one arm, cradled against his chest, he softly caressed the child's small cheek. He couldn't help but gasp with hope and discovery when the infant immediately turned to the side and seemed to reach for his finger with his mouth. " _This may not be so hard after all!_ " William thought, taking the bottle. He could feel that the liquid – " _Julia's milk!_ " he thought with an excited jolt, the milk was still the slightest bit warm.

He stood alone in the hospital room with his newborn son, and he tried to get the boy to drink from the bottle. He found whenever he placed the nipple against the infant's cheek, he would turn to it and take it in his mouth. He would even begin sucking. But as soon as William tilted the bottle to allow the milk to flow, the baby would release the nipple. After quite a few tries he was finding himself getting frustrated. He had not noticed that another nurse had paused in the doorway – watching.

Helen struggled with the conflicts she was feeling as she watched this man, this Detective Murdoch she had read so much about in the papers, as she watched him attempt to coax his new son to drink his first meal. Her heart warmed at the sight of the scene – this was a unique man indeed. Word was all over the hospital that he, a policeman of all things, had actually performed the very challenging new procedure for Cesarean section on his own wife – in their home. And although the gossip around the hospital bantered about whether it was reckless or heroic for him to do so, she herself, was amazed. She had seen his wife soon after she came in, had recognized her as Dr. Garland's wife from before he was killed, and she had overheard the doctors say they were surprised at the fact that she had survived the ordeal. Without saying it, she could tell that the hospital doctors were impressed, actually almost dumbfounded. One of them even said that if he didn't see it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it.

And yet, Helen had loved Dr. Garland – to the point that she had flirted with him even though she knew he was a married man. Just out of jealousy, she had always disliked Dr. Ogden. And secretly she, and most of the staff at the hospital, had always thought that Dr. Garland had really been killed by her, and that she had gotten away with murder, all because she had the love of the brilliant Detective Murdoch who had devised a way to get her off. But the way this man spoke to the infant, there was such a gentleness, and she found herself wishing she could find a man like him herself, so strong and capable, and at the same time also kind and compassionate. What was it about this Dr. Ogden that had earned her the right to have won the love of two such wonderful men, she pondered, as she watched?

"Now little man," William said to the baby in his arms, "It will do you know good to suckle on a nipple without any milk in it, hmm?" He decided to try with the baby in his other arm and put the bottle down to switch sides. He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, turning to look more directly at her. She found her reaction to how handsome he was surprising. She had not expected it. William smiled, looking somewhat embarrassed and said, "The poor child is already having to suffer with his clumsy, inexperienced father, and he is not even a day old yet."

Helen chuckled and stepped into the room, saying, "You do not seem to be that clumsy to me, detective. And if I had to say, the boy seems to have quite a wonderful father in my opinion." The smile her friendly comment earned from the man lightened her heart. "Now then, let us try it again and I will give you some pointers," she instructed.

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you, um …"

"Helen," she answered, handing him the bottle. She showed him how to hold the baby up a little higher in his arms so that the bottle was not upside down for milk to get into the nipple. Success! William's eyes sparkled with delight as his little boy began to take in the milk. "Ha!" he declared happily, "Thank you Helen. Thank you!"

"You are very welcome detective," she said, her smile big enough to match his. She left him to it and William Jr. drank all the milk in the bottle.

"Very well done, William Jr." William cheered his little boy as he placed the empty bottle of milk down. He took the boy in both hands and held him out in front of him to talk to him face to face. "Now son, I know that we are supposed to burp you, but …" William shook his head, "Well, from what I have seen, you go up on my shoulder and I tap your back. Are you ready to give it a try?" he asked the barely half-day old infant. Not long after that, William's odor had a very distinct smell of spit-up milk, and there was a lovely creamy patch of … _burping success,_ all over his left shoulder.

Dr. Tash walked in just as William put the baby into the basinet. "Oh, Dr. Tash," he greeted, "It is so good to see you."

"Please, call me Isaac. Though I dare say, I may need to call you Dr. Murdoch," the tall man replied good-heartedly.

William ducked his chin and shook his head – he found the compliment overwhelming. But oh my, the surge of joy it sent through him, for it implied he did a good job – And it meant that Isaac thought Julia would be alright!

"Julia is on her way up as we speak," he started to explain. He shook his head and continued, "She is by no means out of the woods yet, but her condition looks good. She is running a fever, as would be expected, but I believe the blood transfusion likely saved her life. And I am optimistic that Julia's plan of treating her infection with this new medication will help too." He held William's eye firmly and said, "I do believe she will come through all of this fine, William."

William didn't get a chance to thank him, for it was at that moment that the orderlies arrived with Julia on a stretcher. He was disappointed to see she was not awake. He wondered if she was just sleeping or unconscious, but Dr. Tash explained that she was still drifting in and out of consciousness, but not to worry. They lifted her onto the bed. She had an IV attached to her left hand and the orderlies brought the IV stand with a bag of clear fluid hanging from it close to the left side of her bed. She looked pale and very weak. He had not expected her to look so bad and he found that seeing his vibrant, strong Julia in such a state had sent him into a dizzying panic all over again. Isaac must have seen it on his face and quickly tried to reassure him that she was on the mend. He warned William that her fever was quite high. He would call to check again in a few hours. He expected it to go down soon because he had administered the _Penicilium glaucum_ before she was brought up. He would visit again tomorrow,

William lifted his son out of the basinet and took him in his arms. He sat in the chair rocking and talking to him and waited by Julia's side. It was not long until she roused. Her eyes opened, beautiful and blue, and he knew she would be alright, and he felt the smile on his face with the awareness it, and his heart jolted back to life when she said his name!

She was obviously in a great deal of pain, yet she managed to shift herself to sit a bit more upright. So quickly he was sitting on the bed next to her marveling in the look she gave their son. She reached out, cupped his head with her hand.

"William Lionel Murdoch Jr." William said, his eyes teared with joy.

"Yes," she replied. She lifted her eyes to meet his and he saw she was crying too. He wiped a tear away, feeling so ecstatic that all he could do to cope with the overwhelming joy was to thank God.

Her energy faded soon after she took her son in her own arms and marveled at the tiny baby sleeping there. "Here, let me put him in the basinet," William suggested. By the time he got back to her side she had tucked down under her blanket, curled up into a ball, and closed her eyes. She was shivering, badly. "Julia," he said, worry in his voice.

"I'm so cold William," she answered.

He left her to find a nurse and get another blanket. He saw a nurse pushing a cart with blankets on it. He hurried to catch up to her. "Nurse… Nurse…" he called, prompting her to stop. "Thank you. I was hoping to get an extra blanket …uh, for my wife. She is running a very high fever …" he started to explain, but stopped talking, for the woman had put on a very sour face and started shaking her head – it seemed the moment she recognized him.

"Detective Murdoch, there are no "extra" blankets. You and your … Dr. Ogden …" Her voice had scowled so with Julia's name, "will have to make do with what you have. And dare I say, you should be more grateful for it."

William fought to keep his mouth from dropping agape with shock or clenching with anger. He sighed and said, "Of course, Nurse … what is your name he asked?"

"Christine," she answered, hardening herself against his politeness.

He nodded and swallowed, then gave her a smile, "Nurse Christine. I'm sure with the cold weather and everyone stuck here working overtime, well, I'm sure it would be difficult to get to the laundry and such, and thus difficult to get the blankets everyone needs … But you seem to have quite an abundance here, and well …" (Here he hesitated, for he was quite sure her behavior was vindictive against Julia and himself, and he did not want to stress that the blanket was for them). He continued, "Perhaps I could have one just for a short time – until her fever breaks. The doctor said it should break soon."

Nurse Christine did not even show him the respect of saying "no," snidely turning away from him and continuing to push the cart down the hallway. He returned to Julia's room fuming. Before he walked in the room he calmed himself down. He didn't want to add to Julia's stress by telling her how unjustly they were being treated by some of the staff here. When he got back to her bed, she was either sleeping or unconscious again; he couldn't really tell which without trying to wake her. Noting that William Jr. seemed warm enough and was sleeping peacefully, William decided to lay in the small hospital bed with Julia, despite the scandal such a thing would surely cause if anyone saw them, and warm her body with his.

To be next to her, cuddled-up with her, again felt exquisite. He savored the smell of her hair and the soft feel of her flesh against his. Very rapidly, exhaustion and comfort took him off to sleep as well. Interestingly, while dreaming, he had an idea for making a blanket that could add warmth rather than just hold it in. It would be powered by electricity, plugging into a nearby socket. He would use an insulated wire or heating element inserted between two blankets. The temperature control unit could be installed and located between the blanket and the electrical outlet, so the temperature could be managed through the amount of current entering into the heat elements in the blanket. He would call it an electric blanket!

The sound of animated whispering snuck into his consciousness as he began to awaken. As soon as he turned, he heard the head nurse – Nurse Miriam's harsh voice bellowed from the suddenly ceased murmuring, "Well I never! Detective Murdoch, this is a _**children's**_ hospital. Get out of that bed at once! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Instantly, the baby started to cry, and Julia, too, turned, flinching and moaning with pain.

How he wished he didn't feel humiliated, but he did. It seems all the outrage over being denied a blanket for his feverish wife had disappeared, leaving him defenseless against this woman's public shaming. He hopped out of the bed amidst the stifled laughter from the three or so orderlies standing at the door, and rushed to explain that his intention was to keep his shivering wife warm – that he had been told there were no blankets available.

"That is no excuse for such indecent behavior sir," she continued her chastising.

Instinctively William picked up his crying son and worked to comfort him. He remembered that when Julia had been brought into the hospital, she was covered with one of their own blankets from their home. He studied the observing orderlies, trying to ascertain if they could be encouraged to help him get the blanket.

Nurse Miriam checked Julia's vitals, handling her roughly, causing Julia too moan in pain when she shifted her body to take her pulse and when she put on the cuff for her blood pressure. Snapping the cuff off of Julia's arm, she abruptly pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and observed the reading.

"Did it go down?" William asked enthusiastically.

Nurse Miriam huffed. "I report to the doctors, detective, not to the patients' family members … Perhaps you think of yourself as a doctor now … But I must insist, you certainly are not," she said, dripping with indignation.

William chose to ignore her rudeness, as he was confident Julia's fever had gone down anyway. He decided he would call Isaac later and ask about options for giving Julia pain medication. He anticipated one problem with doing so involved their effects on Julia's milk for the baby. He took a deep breath, working to remain calm and turned to one of the orderlies, asking if he could check for the items his wife came in with; there was a blanket he hoped to use. The man agreed and went to look for the items.

As Nurse Miriam was leaving, she stopped at the door and turned back to say to Julia, who was now sitting up and more alert, "Dr. Ogden, I would appreciate it if you would keep the _**men**_ out of your bed while you are here … This is the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children – not the _**Queen's Hotel**_." She turned to walk out mumbling, "Or any of the hundreds of other hotels you likely frequented with men other than your husband," giving William a dirty look on the way out.

Julia eyed her husband, eyebrow raised, "Were you in my bed William?" she asked.

He wrinkled his face, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he suggested, "Perhaps I should have brought the dominoes this time as well?" Heavenly, the sound of her laugh, although it obviously hurt her to do so.

Julia patted the bed and said, "Come here husband … And bring that little one with you." He reminded her that she had been shivering and he simply had wanted to keep her warm. "Thank you. That was very chivalrous of you, despite the stain it may have put on my stellar reputation," she teased, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Mm," he conceded with a chuckle.

William Jr.'s crying grew in intensity. Julia said that he must be very hungry. She was both surprised and pleased when William told her that the doctors had pumped some of her milk and that he had fed the baby already.

Figuring he was probably hungry again, Julia wanted to try nursing him. She took the infant in her arms and asked William to close the door. He helped her, taking the baby momentarily, as she struggled to free a breast. It was necessary to untie the back of the hospital gown and pull down a sleeve. As he handed William Jr. back to her she asked, already realizing her arms would tire quickly holding the infant's weight, for him to get some extra pillows to place under the baby to help hold him while he nursed.

William returned empty handed, his impatience clear on his face. "William, don't let them get to you," she said with a smile. She took a deep breath and said, with her eyes shifting to the infant in her arms. "He is so beautiful. I had no idea how much I would love him…" she said, her eyes lifting to meet his.

He had no choice but to smile and nod. "Yes, it's quite something when it really hits you," he said, approaching the bed. "Milady, I have a scandalous suggestion," he said, prompting her to lift an eyebrow at him again.

"Oh," she said. "I must ask, sir, what have you done with my straight-laced husband?" she countered with a giggle.

William sat next to her on the bed and said, "First the suggestion, then you will see." She nodded, waiting. "Let me be the pillow," he said with a gentlemanly bow, as he guided her forward so he could sit behind her, placing her between his legs as he leaned back against the back of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her, providing support under her arms as they held their son, and pulled her tenderly back into him. "Relax," he encouraged, whispering into her ear, "If I am to be a _good_ pillow, then you will have to let me hold the weight, hmm?" Julia told herself once again, to trust in this man whom she had come to love so much, and he felt her body grow softer against him and her arms sink heavier into his. She felt him take a deep breath, relishing in her smell before he added, "I loosened the, "laces," as you say in order to better care for the woman I love… I love you so much Julia… And now…" he said, as she felt his long lashes glance her cheek when he dropped his eyes down to the newborn child in their arms.

It fluttered briefly across her mind, the thought that their being discovered like this would surely lead to them being evicted from the hospital for indecency, but … the delicious warmth of the moment – the exquisite feeling that her infant's suckling on her nipple sent through her body, and being held and loved by this wonderful man, the magic and miracle of it all overwhelmed her. Tears filled her eyes and she yielded to it … oh how she soared with the joy of it all. The new parents watched their son nurse for the first time, quiet for a while.

It was Julia's voice that broke the silence. "You did it William. It is amazing really, but you did it," she marveled.

She felt his warm breath breeze over her neck before he said, "No, _**we**_ did it, Julia. We did it together."

Of course he was right. They had. "Yes," she agreed. She leaned back into him more and turned her head. "I think we should change to the other breast William. He'll get more milk," she explained.

Her husband smiled and said, "It looks like it may difficult to get him to let go." The infant was quite enthusiastically keeping up his suckling. "It must be good, hmm William Jr." he asked the boy.

They did switch the baby's position, and the baby nursed a good long time more before he slowed sufficiently for Julia to lift him up onto her shoulder. "There will be more later little one," she reassured him. "We should burp him," she said to William.

"Allow me," he said, crawling out from behind her.

As she handed him the baby her face took on a mischievous smile, "I dare say, from the looks of your shoulder there, Daddy, you have had some experience with this," she teased.

"That I have," he replied.

She wondered if he understood that it was uncanny ability to always look well put together, clean and sharp, even when all those around him had fallen in disarray – that it was his impeccable spotlessness in his appearance that made the fact that he stood before her now, wreaking and stained with baby spit-up, so odd and humorous. If she were to hazard a guess, she figured he did not. "Detective … I recommend a towel under his chin," she advised.

"Very wise doctor," he responded. By the time he turned back to her after finding and placing a towel on his shoulder, she had faded, already close to sleep.

By the time the Brackenreid's entered the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children, the sun was setting. At first they felt ambushed by the large numbers of members of the press, particularly considering the previous day's storm, as they walked into the waiting room. Before they could ask a nurse at the desk where the Murdoch's were located, it quickly became apparent that both Brackenreid's loved being in the spotlight. "Yes, I believe Detective Murdoch, from my stationhouse, that's Stationhouse #4, performed the surgery," the Inspector answered. Margaret found herself describing the Murdoch's unique marriage, calling it "untraditional in the least, but very loving," she had paused, some dim memory about, " _the weather and making love, and storms … something about being warm …_ " plaguing her as she elaborated, "They are quite romantic with one another."

As they headed to Julia's room, Thomas complained, "Why would you tell them those things Margaret?" receiving the response, "I don't know Thomas – I just knew they'd want to know, for their stories!" The Inspector gave the closed door a soft knock before he opened it to find his detective burping the baby and Dr. Ogden fast asleep.

William's face took on a big smile, "Inspector! Margaret!" he whispered.

"We thought you might need a hand me old mucker," the Inspector said, "Me and the missus came to offer some help."

"Thank you sir!" William replied.

"He's beautiful!" Margaret exclaimed, maintaining the whispering. "It is a boy?" she made sure.

"Yes. Meet William Lionel Murdoch Jr.," William proudly claimed.

Margaret asked to hold the infant, and William quickly handed him over. The group decided that William should take advantage of their help by going home for a while. He hadn't eaten all day and he clearly needed a shower and a change of clothes. They would watch over his wife and his newborn. He knew he couldn't possibly leave them in better hands, though he had to calm both Brackenreid's down a bit with respect to the ornery and snide interactions he had warned they would likely encounter when dealing with some of the staff. (He had later come to learn there was quite a lively exchange involving a nurse and a bedpan!). The Inspector warned him about the press, and William headed on his way.

Figuring the best way to handle the press was to give them something meaty to look forward to, he promised a Press Conference on Christmas Eve, making for a great story for the Christmas Day papers. A reporter from the Gazette, Teddy Nelson, caught him alone before he stepped into a cab. Nelson reminded Detective Murdoch that he had covered the Time Machine case back at the turn of the century. He asked the detective if he had seen that he would have a son while he took a trip in the time machine to see his future. Stating strongly that he would need to keep it off the record, William shared one of his best-kept secrets with the man; although it made no sense, for the time machine was truly a hoax, yes, he had seen it, right down to the age of the boy he met being eight years old, meaning he would need to be born this year to be the right age in 1912, sending chills down both their spines.

Once home he was welcomed by a note and a meal from Eloise. He called her and , as well as George and Dr. Grace too. Then he cleaned up, deciding to shave when he woke later, and fell asleep quickly. It was over five hours later when he woke in the early morning and prepared to head back to the hospital.

He brought a bag with items Julia would need, changes of clothes, hair brush, tooth brush etc. He also brought along a blanket and two pillows, and some of the baby clothes … And he decided to bring their journals, leaving Julia's older one, smiling with the memory of her embarrassed laughter as she tried to tell him about her first entry after they had met. " _Was that really just over 24 hours ago?_ " he thought, shaking his head at how unbelievable the thought was.

It took a while to get a carriage – the streets clear enough for them now, but the hour very early. As he rode to the hospital his thoughts drifted to what he had written to their unborn child in his journal just over a day ago. He felt so naïve with the reflection. But he remembered he had gotten one thing right in the advice he had written to his … son. He had wished the child the good fortune and open heart necessary to find love. He truly believed there could be nothing more than that to lead to a life well-lived in the end. A smile claimed his face. He had been so fortunate, not only finding Julia, but to have the love and care of so many others, from George and Dr. Grace, to the Inspector and Margaret, and Eloise. And he knew, that from day one, his son had all their love too. His step was lively as he walked into the hospital – he even noticed … he was humming.

 **Toronto Gazette: Sunday, December 24, 1904**

 **Teddy Nelson**

 **Headline:** **Toronto Detective Performs Surgery to Save His Wife and Unborn Child**

 **Detective William Murdoch and his wife, Dr. Julia Ogden, arguably Toronto's most famous couple, became the proud parents of a healthy baby boy, William Lionel Murdoch Jr., on Thursday evening after the detective performed a complex surgical procedure on his wife to deliver their son. The day's snowstorm combined with Dr. Ogden's early labor forced the couple to take matters into their own hands as they were unable to get to the hospital for Dr. Isaac Tash to perform the transverse Cesarean section. The innovative procedure was essential because Dr. Ogden has a condition that would result in the death of both herself and the child if she attempted to deliver the child in the traditional way.**

 **Fortunately, Dr. Ogden is a physician herself and was quite familiar with the new procedure, and she had a medical bag in their home with most of the needed supplies. She entered into labor around eight o'clock on the evening of December 21st, causing the couple much concern. Fearing for Dr. Ogden's life, as well as that of their unborn child, Dr. Ogden taught her husband, himself well-covered in this paper for his keen intellect and adaptive abilities in response to solving crimes, how to perform the surgery. Detective Murdoch explained, "I had to cut a smile-shaped line across Julia's lower abdomen just above her pubic bone, then reach in and separate the muscles to expose the uterus, cut open the uterus, remove our baby, tend to nostril plugs for his breathing, use the umbilical cord to remove the placenta, suture the uterus back up, and then suture her abdomen. In between contractions, Julia taught me the angle, depth and pressure to use with the scalpel on a chicken we had in the ice box." He performed all but the last step, which was done by William Jr.'s godmother, Dr. Emily Grace, who arrived at the Murdoch's home around eleven o'clock, with the assistance of Constable George Crabtree. Adding to the challenge, the detective had to perform all these steps without the guidance of his wife because she needed to be under the influence of anesthesia – in this case they had chloroform in their home.**

 **As soon as the ambulance was able to get through the snow-covered streets, mother and newborn were transported to the closest hospital, the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children. As fate would have it, Dr. Ogden's former husband, Dr. Darcy Garland, was the Head Administrator of this hospital before he was murdered by a nemesis of Detective Murdoch's in an attempt to frame Dr. Ogden for the murder. The famous trial of Dr. Ogden (which originally resulted in her conviction before her being exonerated when Detective Murdoch provided evidence incriminating the actual murderer, psychopath James Gilles) exposed the couple's scandalous affair and desire for Dr. Garland to grant Dr. Ogden a divorce so the couple could marry.**

 **When asked if she felt guilty about relying on her dead husband's hospital for care, Dr. Ogden took the opportunity to, "tell all," to the public. She expressed regret for marrying Dr. Garland when she knew her, "heart would always belong to Detective Murdoch." She explained why she did so, "It's so ironic that the reason that I left William was because of my condition rendering me unable to give him children, and Darcy didn't want children. It was only after I married Darcy that I learned that William still loved me despite my inability to bear children. William and I did not intend for me to get pregnant, but I did. I never would have thought back then that science would come up with a way to solve this problem, but here we are."**

 **Much of the staff at the hospital admit that they came to admire and care for the couple despite their history with Dr. Garland. One of the first nurses to care for the newborn, Helen Burgess, claimed that she could, "see in the end why (Dr. Ogden) had fallen for (Detective Murdoch) now that she had gotten to know him better." The charge nurse, Miriam Benson, explained that she now believed, "whole-heartedly," that it was James Gillies who had murdered her beloved boss, and that what the Murdoch's had for each other was what we all wish for, "true love."**

 **Dr. Tash predicts that Dr. Ogden will remain in hospital care for at least three more weeks. She experienced a great deal of blood loss during the procedure and is also very likely to encounter problems with infection - even though Detective Murdoch used gloves and a mask and sterilized equipment, and even switched to a different scalpel than the one used to practice on the chicken, before performing the procedure. As for William Jr., he will remain in the hospital as well. Besides the infant's needing to be with his mother, it seems that his father cut too deeply through the uterine wall and nicked the infant's left shoulder with the scalpel, requiring several stitches.**

 **Typical of the unconventional couple's style, William Jr. is unlikely to be raised in a traditional manner. However, a reliable source reports that the couple is very, "loving," suggesting the boy has a very happy childhood to look forward to. Within six months, Dr. Ogden intends to return to her work as a pathologist working on Detective Murdoch's cases at Stationhouse #4, under the tutelage of Inspector Thomas Brackenreid, also a good friend of the couple's, having walked Dr. Ogden down the aisle to the detective just two years ago. A nanny will be in charge of much of the care for their son during Dr. Ogden's working hours. We here at the Gazette wish them the best of luck.**


	17. Chapter 17: Healing

Journal Journeys_Healing

 **Sometimes, even wonderful things hurt you. In such times, joy works with time to bring about healing. Along the way, if you are lucky, even awful injuries are repaired as well, and relationships restored with compassionate understanding and with it trust. This was one of those times for Jilliam.**

Ceasing his cheerful humming as he reached the hospital room door, lest he wake the sleeping, William was relieved to find the door slightly ajar. His arms full with pillows, a blanket, Julia's bag, and roses and chocolates, relief pumped through him – just a light push and he would be in. As the door slowly swung open, he watched the room grow. First the basinet, " _William Jr. was asleep_ ," then the chair, " _Margaret was asleep too,_ " and then, and his reaction to the sight of her surprised him, " _Julia._ " He stood in the doorway for a moment, stuck, stunned with joy. He didn't think his chest had any more room for the growth of his heart – but it did. He watched her sleep, for just a moment. Still weak and battered, her skin still pale, her hair disheveled. And yet, she never struck him as so beautiful. He felt his own chest lift and fill with the beauty of the moment.

He made it to the second chair in the room, in the corner behind the door, to drop his bundles, placing his hat on the top of the pile with the bouquet of yellow roses and the box of chocolates. After a quick glance to determine the two women were still asleep, he gave in to the urge to stand in awe once more at the sight of his son.

Unbeknownst to him, Julia watched. " _Leave it to William to come to care for a newborn in a suit_ ," she thought, " _But, my God the man is handsome, is he not?_ " Her eyes dwelled on his behind as he bent over the basinet to adjust the baby's blanket, prompting her mind to replay their discussion, and the harmony of their laughter, when she so struggled to tell him about her first impressions of him. He stood and turned, and their eyes met across the room.

It happened sometimes – this kind of look, this kind of connection between them. Knowing that in reality, the room was still, but being so pulled to the other, with such speed, that even though the wind blasted by you, there did not seem to be enough air to breathe, and your mind grew dizzy as the rest of the world buzzed by, and the force between you shifted the gravity in the world. Invariably, one of them would break the spell; this time it was Julia.

Wanting to be quiet so as not to wake Margaret, wanting to keep her private connection with this man, who so rocked her world, for just a few moments longer, she lightly tapped the mattress and said, her voice low, "Come here." It seemed he heard her down in his groin.

As William crossed the room, he glanced to Margaret in the chair to see if she was still sleeping. Julia shifted to sit up in the bed, leaning back against the bed-board, grimacing in pain, but managing to keep the moan quiet. As he sat next to her he said, "She stayed all night…"

Julia nodded, taking the knot of his tie in her fingers, "She has been wonderful," she whispered.

Margaret, being an expert snoop, had been feigning sleep ever since William had leaned over the infant. " _This should be fun,_ " she thought. Her eyes still closed, consciously breathing slowly, keeping her face muscles relaxed, she listened in.

Julia took a deep breath, allowing the smell of him to soak into her. Oh how she loved him. "You clean up nicely detective," she commented, noticing the warm feelings his closeness brought spreading through her. She teased, "You must be very confident in your burping skills to wear such a nice suit." He nodded with a soft chuckle. She warned, "I dare say though, I fear you still may need to tackle diapering," joining in his hushed laughter with a playful giggle of her own. His eyes betrayed other interests, flickering with sparkles and dark with lust, forcing her to need more oxygen, to take another deep breath, this one sending the scent of him deeper. She felt her womb twitch, creating a mixture of pleasure and pain, reminding her that she would still need time to heal. She slipped her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, tilting her head to hover just above his neck. " _My, the smell of him is heavenly,_ " the thought twirled around in her head. She told him, her voice sounding wispy, like in a dream, "Your Chinese potion, William – it makes my knees weak."

" _That's it_ ," Margaret thought, " _His smell!_ " Margaret had not been able to identify what it was that was so distinct and enticing about the detective, though of course, he was physically very attractive. But she had always thought there was more to it than that. Lying there in the chair, a memory flashed through her mind of being very, very close to him – so close she could smell it – smell his **Chinese love potion**! _But when was that?_ _Why would I ever have been so close to him?_ " she asked herself. The memory moved forward, seeming to drag her along as if she were in some sort of stupor. She felt so aroused, nearly desperate… she had, " _so wanted a warm front of her own. What is a warm front?"_ she asked herself.

"Oh, the secret _potion_ is it?" William asked, an eyebrow arched up, challenging her, before she felt his cheek slide across hers, smooth, recently shaved. His hand slid around her waist, it felt so big as it held her back. "The effect has nothing to do with me, then?" he asked before held her tight and leaned in closer, his lips – so soft and plump, kissed hers. She hungered for the taste of him, softly moaning as his delicious tongue glided along hers, seeming to melt her somehow from the inside out. " _Oh yes_ ," she thought as, lusciously, her womb tightened with desire, the cramp surging searing pain to her brain. Gently releasing his lips, "Ouch …" she whispered, although she was aroused sufficiently she wasn't sure she wanted him to stop … But he did.

Margaret had heard their intimacy, knew it would be safe to open her eyes, for they would see no one but each other. She had watched them, tease and kiss, and care for each other. She missed such love with Thomas. They were beautiful, enchanting.

William reached up, choosing one of her abundant unruly curls to twist and admire. "Sorry," he whispered, remembering the stitches he had sewn in her womb, his face wincing in empathy for the sting he imagined she felt.

She sighed and leaned back, increasing the space between them. "We'll have to take it slow," she said, her face offering apology.

He nodded, holding tightly to her large blue eyes. "Did Isaac say … um…"

Julia's smile was playful and warm as she helped him, answering his question so he would not need to find the words. "He did," she answered, "He recommended about six weeks for me to heal."

"Good," he said, pulling back a bit more.

"You are a good sport, William," Julia replied, shaking her head at him, wishing things were different.

He bowed to her and said, "And you are quite the trooper as well, milady."

"The pain medication helps," she added.

" _She also seems to no longer be running a fever_ ," he thought, then remembering his desperation to find her a blanket when she shivered so, and then his new idea for an invention flashed into his mind. Excitement took his face, capturing her.

"William! What is it?" she asked.

"I have an idea – for a special kind of blanket. It heats up on its own, using electricity," he explained.

"Electricity?" she asked, "How would that work?"

Reminding Julia of an excited young boy, William described his plan, "Sewn in between two blankets there would be a heating element, made up of a network of resistive wires encapsulated in a liquid-proof covering. The blanket would heat up when an electric current passes through the wires. It would be plugged into the wall and the temperature control unit would regulate how much current passes through the wires."

Laughing at his excitement, she praised, "You never cease to amaze me, William. It sounds wonderful."

He bowed to her and said, "I'm hoping to donate as many of them as possible here – for the children."

"That would be lovely," she replied, once again playing with his tie, proud and impressed, not just with his outstanding mind, but with his kind heart as well.

Changing the subject, instinctively knowing he needed to quell his amorous urges – " _It would be so much easier if she would stop fussing with my tie … Why always the tie?_ " he asked himself. He said, "I brought you some things."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Mm," he nodded. He sighed, fighting against the magnetism. "Roses and chocolates…" He smiled as she raised her eyebrows eagerly. "And a few things from home, tooth brush and such, and some pillows and a blanket…"

There was a click in Julia's brain, as she figured out the connection between the pillows and blankets and his impeccable suit. " _He needed to feel more respectable,_ " she thought… " _After all of the mistreatment from the staff. They had been particularly ornery about the blanket._ "

"He leaned closer to her and whispered (causing Margaret to have to strain to hear what he said), "And I brought our journals," he wrinkled a corner of his mouth and added, "Perhaps when we are alone we can share."

" _Journals! Journals! They write journals – and these gems are here. Oh my!_ " Margaret thought enthusiastically… Her wheels turning, she would need to look for them the next time she was alone and Julia slept.

"That sounds lovely, William," Julia replied, close to his ear, the familiar warmth of her breath flooding down his neck, followed by a tender kiss on his cheek. "I'm starving … Perhaps we could open the chocolates?" she suggested with a sly smile.

"Of course, milady," he said with a bow and hopped up to retrieve them. After he walked past Margaret, she pretended to wake up.

Not long afterwards, the Inspector came to take Margaret home for her to get some sleep. She promised to come back to help out again later … it would allow the detective to go home once more, for a decent meal and to have a bed to sleep in instead of the neck-wrenching chair. Appreciatively, they accepted her generosity. She eyed the suit case on the floor next to the chair behind the door as she walked out. " _The journals must be in there_ ," she thought as she linked her arm into that of her husband. "Thomas, it was so nice of you to come get me this morning," she said. She didn't know how yet, but she had every intention of bringing on one of these storm fronts that danced so enticingly just out of reach in the dark recesses of her mind – perhaps a little afternoon delight. "You know Thomas, we have not spent a Saturday afternoon together, just you and I, for quite a while…" she started to plant the seed.

William spent that Saturday in the hospital with his family. William Jr. nursed, and Julia got up out of bed and walked to the bathroom down the hall, with a little help. William Jr. slept. Julia slept. Dr. Tash visited, adjusting the amount of _Penicillium glaucum_ Julia was getting and lowering the pain medication. He reassured the Murdoch's that Julia was healing well, as there was no significant swelling in her abdomen, and the abdominal incision looked to be healing well too. Even William Jr.'s cut on his arm was healing up well.

As Isaac was leaving he thought to caution them that he had been questioned by reporters, and had shared some information that perhaps he should not have – about Julia having a condition. He had not elaborated, knowing that she would be jailed and possibly hung if knowledge of her abortion became public, but he had explained to the newspaper men that her condition made it unlikely she would get pregnant, and impossible for her to birth a child if she ever did get pregnant, without use of a Cesarean section. He had also told the reporters that the detective's actions in performing the surgery were astonishing to him, and to his fellow doctors. He warned that some of the reporters were calling it a, "Christmas Miracle."

William and Julia talked for a while about what to say during the press conference tomorrow morning. William mentioned that the reporters had likely also talked to the hospital staff, bringing up the disdain some of the staff members held for them. "They are being loyal to Darcy, William," Julia reasoned as he expressed his impatience. "You mustn't take it personally," she urged.

 **Later that afternoon, it happened – hearts and minds were shifted. There was another form of healing…**

Earlier, William had failed miserably at effectively diapering William Jr., resulting in quite a mess in the basinet. Julia had marveled at how William had managed to keep his suit clean despite the sticky muck that seemed somehow to be absolutely everywhere else. He had cleaned everything up, and even managed to get a nurse, despite the staff's general contempt for them, to bring new bedding for the basinet. They had decided that it would be better for Julia to be the one to diaper the baby. Now, a few hours later, Julia slept and the baby fussed, and when William went to tend to him, he found that Julia's diapering job had not been much better than his – for once again, there was a sticky, tar-like, greenish-black drippy, gooey, very stinky, goop that had oozed out from around the edges of the diaper to dampen and stain much of the bedding the tiny baby lay in. And, no matter how carefully he tried to contain it, it seemed to spread like wildfire, mushrooming to nearly every corner of the basinet, dropping here and there as he lifted the infant. Some on the floor, then on his shoe as he tried to move to the top of the dresser where they had set up the diaper changing area… " _How did it get on the door!? … Perhaps that was from last time and we didn't notice it._ "

Knowing he needed to tend to the baby first and clean up later, he held the tiny child out in front of him over the little crib. Figuring the bedding in the basinet would need to be completely replaced again anyway, he decided to pull off the dirty diaper while holding the newborn over the basinet, and letting the mucky mess fall down onto the already ruined bedding. He wiped the baby dry with a towel he had used for burping earlier, adding it to the pile, then tucked a clean diaper under his arm and the pins in his mouth, and headed for the bathroom down the hall to clean the baby off and apply a new diaper.

He was spotted by Nurse Miriam, carrying the naked baby a good three feet out in front of him just as he disappeared into the bathroom. Wondering what the new father was up to, Nurse Miriam quickly checked the room. It just struck her as so funny – the humungous mess in the basinet, and elsewhere … and its complete contradiction with everything she could ascertain about the buttoned-down detective. The man's wife slept so peacefully, completely unaware of her husband's ensuing battle against the baby poop. She laughed out loud, quickly stifling the noise so as not to waken the man's wife. It was that moment that her heart had warmed to him. If nothing else, he was surely trying. " _Perhaps the detective is not so impossible to fall for after all,_ " she thought. She would help him. She had an orderly get a new basinet to bring up to their room, she gathered up a diaper, and headed to join the detective in the bathroom.

Inside, behind the closed door, William had cleaned and dried the baby who lay on the countertop. He was putting the finishing touches on his latest effort to diaper the child, when there was a knock at the door. "Just a minute," he called out.

"Detective, I know you are in there," Nurse Miriam said.

Dread pumped through him, for he recognized her voice, the unique sound triggering flashes of his memories of jumping out of Julia's bed to be publicly humiliated. Sometimes his body reacted this way to the Inspector, too, when his superior was suspected of being in a foul mood, and he bellowed, "Murdoch!" across the stationhouse. He worked to calm himself, stuttering momentarily, "Uh, yes … um, I uh, we I mean … well…"

Nurse Miriam's voice charged forward, the tone professional and military-like, "Detective Murdoch, you are a disgrace … and this is clearly …" She stopped. " _Was that giggling he heard?_ Her voice rallied again, "… a very … volatile situation," she continued, her voice now shaky and broken up as she tried to block her urge to laugh. Regaining her composure she stood up tall and demanded sternly, "I believe it is in the best interest of the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children that you learn how to diaper your child, detective. This … utter disaster must be contained! Now open this door at once."

William had to admit that he didn't disagree. He had been hoping to cover for their ineptitude until Margaret had arrived, however. He sighed and said to William Jr., "Might as well get it over with," as he took the tiny baby in his arms and walked over and opened the door. "Nurse Miriam, I intend to clean everything up … I just wanted to…"

Her eyes fell to William's most recent attempt at diapering. "Detective Murdoch, this simply won't do," she said matter-of-factly. "Such a breechcloth is for wild Indians, not for civilized babies," she chided.

Not knowing what to say, he fell back on what he had learned while under the care of the nuns – to defer. "Yes mam," he replied, with a wrinkle of his mouth at the corner, in apology.

Instantly the woman's mannerisms softened. "Oh, let me show you," she said, as she barged past him and laid her fresh diaper out on the countertop. She folded the diaper into thirds by bringing the left and right sides to overlap the center. Then she folded the bottom up a quarter of the way up the diaper and flared out the tops of the left and right thirds above that part to make what she called, "angel wings." William Jr.'s bottom was placed in the center so that the folded bottom could be brought up between his legs, and each "wing" then wrapped around his waist to get snuggly pinned to the front. "Now you do it," she said, quickly disassembling her flawless job. She handed him the baby and the diaper and stepped back to observe. "You will have to learn to do it while holding him. Go on then," she urged.

William bowed to her and stepped up to the countertop, spreading the diaper out into its square. His first attempt at folding it into thirds was sloppy, so he opened it up to try again. He heard her behind him. She took a deep breath and he anticipated some form or another of scolding.

"Surely, after performing a transverse Cesarean section, without any assistance, in your home, you can meet the challenge of putting on a diaper detective," she encouraged.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. " _Oh my God_ ," he thought as a lightness floated into his chest, " _She's smiling,_ " he thought. "Yes," he said, feeling the surge of confidence. She suggested he fold the top of the flared out "wings" down and the top of the front piece down as well, because William Jr. was still too small to fit well in the diaper.

After he first pinned it together, she reached over and pinched the area above the baby's hip and said, "Too loose. Make it tighter." Which he did. Actually, his diapering job looked fantastic!

"Magnificent," Nurse Miriam declared.

William smiled with glee, his eyes twinkling with pride and success. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. As they headed back to the room, he hoped she would not go in, not wanting her to see the mess. He paused at the doorway and thanked her again.

"Detective," she got to the point, "I saw the room before I came to the bathroom."

"Oh, I see," he replied. "Well, um …"

She reached over and opened the door to show him. The mess was gone – a shiny new basinet resting next to the chair. Julia was sitting up, awake, in her bed. She was eating her dinner. "There you are, William," she said in greeting.

Nurse Miriam spoke up, "I think you will find, Dr. Ogden, that your husband is now quite adept at diapering as well as performing surgery." She turned to look at William and said, "I trust you will teach your wife."

"Yes, of course," William replied with a bow.

"Good," she answered, "That will be one catastrophe averted." Then she turned on her heel and marched out. The Murdoch's could not see it, but there was a big smile on her face. " _Not so bad, once you get to know them,_ " she thought.

"William!" Julia whispered, fearing the nurse might overhear, "Whatever did you do to win her over?"

He wrinkled his face with doubt as he tried to come up with an answer, giving her a shrug.

"Come here. You must be starving," she said. She raised a finger to her lips and whispered, "Shh…The nurse that brought around dinner said she had heard about us – she brought some for you too."

 **It seemed there was a mending that had begun.**

The dinner cleared away, William Jr. breastfed once more, Julia slept while William rested in the chair. The inspector and Margaret knocked lightly on the door and then came in. They paused at the basinet to see the tiny baby sleeping, Margret reached in to pull up the blanket, noticing his diaper. " _Impressive_ ," she thought. "Detective," she asked, whispering, "Did you diaper this baby?"

"Mm-hmm," he said with a nod, a beam of pride evident. "Nurse Miriam showed me…"

The Inspector leaned close to them and said, looking to his wife, "That's the one with the bedpan?" It was hard to say which fact surprised them more, that the detective had done such a nice job diapering the infant, or that he had managed to have that horrible head nurse be the one teach him how to do it.

William thanked them once again for their help as the Inspector headed home, leaving Margaret behind. The detective watched the couple at the door, thinking that the Inspector was probably enjoying having the house to himself, but to his surprise, his superior seemed to be quite intimate with his wife, even whispering in her ear, bringing her to giggle, reminding him of a schoolgirl in love. The scene warmed his heart, the couple's love for each other so apparent after all these years and all those rowdy arguments.

Soon after the Inspector left, William prepared to go home as well. He looked in on his son, then walked over to contemplate waking Julia to say goodnight. He tried to resist the urge to touch her, but failed, taking a seat next to her on the bed. Margaret stood behind him, remembering the lovely scene she had witnessed earlier. He tenderly pinched a curl, letting his fingers slip across her cheek. He thought she felt too warm. Worrying she may be feverish again, knowing Isaac had lowered the dosage of Julia's medication designed to fight microbes, he asked Margaret if she felt Julia was too hot as well.

Margaret stepped in front of him and placed her hand on the sleeping woman's forehead. She nodded, "Yes," she agreed, "Perhaps she is running a fever again."

William decided he would call Isaac when he got home to let him know. He retrieved the blanket he had brought from home and covered her with it, unintentionally waking her as he did so.

"William," she said, the tenderness in her voice calling him to her at some deeper level that he found impossible to resist.

He leaned down and gave her a kiss. After breaking off the kiss, he lovingly tucked her into the cozy blanket.

She smiled, her blue eyes so magnetic in the dim light in the room, and said, "I prefer the other blanket, from the first day."

He chuckled and replied, "Unfortunately, that's not possible now, is it?" prompting her to laugh, albeit weakly.

Margaret asked, "And what blanket was that?"

Julia lifted her eyes to momentarily meet Margaret's, before she brought them back to hold William's. "William was my blanket, Margaret," she explained, with a smile.

"Oh," she responded, "Rather bold… considering …"

William offered, "It did cause quite an uproar here at the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children."

Julia quickly added, mischievously, "That's my husband, quite a big one for public displays of affection," giggling at her own joke as she reached up to cup his cheek. "Just something I have had to learn to put up with," she teasingly expounded. They all enjoyed the shared chuckle, Margaret's participation magnifying the contradiction between William's reputation for being straight-laced and his actions joining Julia in her hospital bed. Julia took a deep breath, signaling a change of subject and said to Margaret, "I want to thank you for all you have done for us. You made out wedding beautiful, and then the baby shower, and now you have been so generous to come help in our hour of need – and I just want you to know how fortunate we feel to have you as a friend."

William agreed with a nod. "Goodnight," he said, giving her a final kiss. Reaching the door, he turned to say, "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve!" excitedly before he headed for home. He made plans. He had enough materials at home to make at least one electric blanket… Perhaps the tailor would be open in the morning and could make a few more from his prototype …. And he would bring a little Christmas tree to Julia's room tomorrow – and some of the gifts…

 **It was hard to say whether his humming served as a means to aid the healing of himself and those around him, or whether the cheerful tune merely served to demonstrate that healing was occurring. Either way, the Press Conference was tomorrow, and William's heart was more open and trusting now than it had been before – before he had even become aware of the rift between himself and Julia, and the people from her previous life with Dr. Darcy Garland, as well as of public opinion for that matter.**

Julia fell back asleep quickly, giving Margaret opportunity to search for the couple's journals. She figured she probably had another hour or so before the baby either became hungry enough, or soiled his diaper sufficiently, to wake up. Delight pumped through her veins as she opened the suitcase. " _Ah yes_ ," she thought upon the sight of the two little books lying together, one covered in flowers, the other simply enclosed in plain brown. _"Who first_ ," she asked herself… She decided to let fate decide, lifting the flowered journal from its resting place on top of the other. Completely randomly, she opened the journal to a page, noticing how remarkably neat the penmanship was – particularly for a doctor. She sat in the better-hidden chair in the corner of the room behind the door, and found herself immediately enthralled by the new window into the detective and his doctor-wife which she had discovered.

 **It feels somehow beyond mere catharsis, almost magically deepening our love for each other – I think it is because of trust. And to think it had started out as one of the worst days for our relationship I can remember. We had never had such a fight! And in public to boot…**

(Margaret's heart raced eagerly. " _This was going to be good_ ," she thought. _When? …. What was the fight about,_ " she rushed to know).

 **I still feel my jaw clench, for I was so furious with him. How could he be so stupid?! … Such a smart man! He** _ **punched**_ **him – on King Street… Knocked his teeth out! Emily called it "highly romantic." I suppose it is. I will admit, my heart feels a certain excitement in knowing William Murdoch lost his composure, losing his own amazing self-control in defense of my honor. To think that William Murdoch looked for Darcy – anger seething inside of him, all because ironically, it was Darcy who was having an affair in the end rather than us…**

(Margaret had to stop for a moment. " _Detective Murdoch? Thomas did not tell me enough of the details about this… And here I thought the man too gentle to be exciting…_ " for Margaret had always thought the detective had hit Dr. Garland after Garland confronted _him_ for having an affair with _his_ wife. " _My God_ ," she thought, " _the detective seeked Dr. Garland out for insulting Julia – for being the one who actually had an affair! Detective Murdoch and the good doctor had not had sex! Unbelievable – What about the evidence at the trial!? And the night at the Queen's hotel!_?" she wondered).

 **I feel such regret for my hurtful words, and yet, they rung true, and it is for the better that he knew my thoughts … my disappointment at his not stopping the wedding – at his not choosing me. And I must forgive myself for thinking he cared more about having a family than he cared about his love for me. I could not have known that he loved me, wanted me and only me, despite my sterility…**

(" _Oh, this is unbelievable!_ " Margaret thought with a jolt. " _She's sterile! Can't be – there is a baby right over there? … But … It did take a long time for her to get pregnant, that's true – and there was the surgery after all…Perhaps she thought she was sterile but was wrong! Must be._ " She turned back to the journal before the thought crossed her mind, pulling at her heart with the newfound understanding. " _That's why she left him and went to Buffalo! Wow, this is amazing!_ ").

 **And then, I do believe I have never felt such an ache in my heart as when I looked over and saw the light still on in William's office… It was almost midnight, and the case was already solved. And I just knew he was suffering after our huge argument. Imagining him sitting there at his desk... struggling with his torment … As was I. And I knew I had to go to him. We had to fix this…**

(Suddenly adrenalin surged through her, prompting Margaret to slam the journal shut. A nurse had opened the door. Came to take Julia's vitals. Quickly she tucked the journal behind the vase of flowers on the table by her chair. It was not until many hours later that she could get back to her snooping).

 **I never imagined I could love a man so much as I love William – never thought such a profound love was even possible. The feeling seems to threaten the integrity of my chest to contain the throbbing of my heart. He opened himself up to me. Showed me his fears and his weaknesses … and I love him oh so much more for having seen all of him…. And he me. To know he loves me, even more, after I told him about my own insecurities – about my own need to leave him in order to feel in control, unable to tolerate him knowing about my being unable to give him a child. And my lack of trust in him, lack of belief in the power of his love for me – and truly powerful it is, to the point that he chose a life alone after he lost me rather than being able to move on to be with any other woman. It is so incredible, really. The strength of his love. I still marvel at his survival with the pain – agony really, of watching me marry Dr. Darcy Garland, believing I no longer loved him, thinking that I never really did love him, because he wasn't wealthy enough, wasn't from the right family, didn't have the right background to be thought worthy… My heart still wrenches with the pain I felt when he told me he had resigned himself to a life of watching over me from afar – that he had accepted that all he would ever be to me was a friend, a friend to a woman who married to another, was sleeping each night with another, a friend to the he knew was the only one for him. And then, Oh My God it still hurts so as I remember him leaning back against the back of the reclining chair as I sat in his arms, and he fought against the pain and the tears so severely as he suffered again with the memories of how much it had hurt him when I decided that I couldn't live with seeing him every day – that I would leave him again, leave the morgue, walk away, completely, forever. The tears flow out of me now with the thought of it. I had hurt him so … And still, he loved me… Would always love me, till the day he died.**

Margaret had given into her own tears as well. She sniffled. And looked away from the journal and wiped at her eyes. She took a deep breath and let the feelings soak in, then went on.

 **Last night we made such a beautiful memory that we will hold for all of time – sitting together, sharing his reclining chair. Spending the night entangled together in his office, talking through our deepest emotions and thoughts. Disclosing all of our hearts and our souls to each other –each trusting the other to understand, knowing we would go on loving each other despite seeing the parts of ourselves we hide from the rest of the world, that we sometimes even hide from ourselves, that ultimately we would love each other even more for having done so. We will always have this love, this companionship, whether or not Darcy ever grants a divorce. William is the one for me – I the one for him. Even if we never get to take the vows, never even get to make love, we will love each other until death does us part – and longer, for our love is forever and ever, for all time. So much has been healed. We are stronger now. We both see it – the invincibleness, the destiny, of our love.**

Margaret closed the book with the flowered cover and tucked it back in its place resting above the other plain brown one– joined with its companion. She would check on the baby. What a miracle the child really was, now she awed with the awareness, now that she knew.

It was not until after Christmas that Margaret had a chance to read William's journal. She looked for the same date – she looked for his story about the night in the reclining chair, to no avail. The detective must not have written about it. (So soon afterwards, Dr. Garland was found shot dead). She decided to go back further in his bland, brown-covered journal – finding her mind constantly dwelling on the contradiction between what was said at the trial about their spending the night at the Queen's Hotel and the doctor's words about their not making love until would they take their vows. As she remembered it, the detective punched Dr. Garland after he and Dr. Ogden had supposedly spent the night together at the hotel, so she would need to go back earlier than when Dr. Ogden wrote about their fight…

 **I must summon my courage. The step must be taken, but the line is thin. I want to be with Julia more than anything else in the world, more than anything I have ever wanted before, and I am sure more than anything I will ever want in the future. She is the one for me – I have no doubt. And the way has been made clear, we must convince the court we committed adultery, while not actually committing it. Julia said we need to spend the night together in a hotel – there must be signed log books and witnesses. After seeing her today, getting a glimpse of what will be mine once we are wed, I know I cannot wait one more second. I will book a room at the Queen's Hotel, we will both sign the log book. We will walk in right at supper time.**

 **To be honest, the public scandal of it seems to be the easy part, for a part of me wants nothing more than for the world to know that she is mine, that I am hers, that we are in love – and even to have the world believe I have made love to such a magnificent woman. I must admit, I do not worry that I will feel shame. No – the hard part will be spending the night in a hotel room with her and NOT making love. Especially after seeing her exquisite naked body today – in broad daylight. Oh my God, I'm not sure my heart, or other parts of my anatomy for that matter, can withstand it! My male pride puffs up so knowing that the Inspector and George also saw her spectacular body – That every day they will look at me and think that I have made love to such an exquisite woman...**

(Margaret nearly said it out loud! "Thomas! Thomas saw Julia Ogden naked! Well I never…How did this happen – Crabtree too!)

… **Knowing they know, it is strangely like the opposite of jealousy. But, having seen her, does intensify the challenge. To be near her, alone – to kiss her now, knowing how breathtakingly beautiful she is, and to stay in control… I must admit I have my doubts. And the lady, in this case, will likely not be much help in maintaining control. She has made it clear she would prefer to… not wait until we are married, if we ever will be. Which is the point, isn't it. Thus, it must be done – now. I'll bring dominoes. I won't even kiss her. I'll sleep on the floor – in my suit. I have to make sure not to let her talk me into having a drink. Definitely the dominoes.**

" _Well then_ ," Margaret thought, " _They definitely had_ _ **not**_ _had sexual relations at the time of the trial, but they had painted themselves into quite a corner… It would have been impossible to deny it. And the good detective is the moral, upstanding man I had believed him to be all along. They waited because_ _ **he**_ _wanted to._ " She closed the journal, tucked it back under Julia's more flowery book, and then turned her attention to the woman sleeping in the bed. She understood so much more now, the chemistry the doctor and the detective shared, striking a beautiful balance between shared characteristics, like a bright intellect and enthusiasm for science, and even a deep passion for living in a more just and caring world… but then their differences, her so bold and him so modest… She saw it much more clearly now – the unique and powerful bond between them. " _Thomas and I are so much alike – both such fireballs. It has worked well for us. But these two, like fire and water – and my God do they make some steam!"_ she concluded. Her memory flashed once again to the idea, so tied in her memories with the couple's lovemaking, this idea of storm fronts – a powerful collision of the right factors and elements leading to such explosions, the resulting eruptions providing what is so needed for life to thrive – water and wind, nourishing the earth in unison with the sun – a completion of everything in the event. It was perfect. She shook her head, " _I never knew_ ," she thought.

He rarely slept on his stomach. Perhaps it was because he slept alone now, the pillow under him the closest thing he could find to her presence. A very quiet, slow and agonous moan escaped his throat, coincided with a slight thrust of his pelvis. He was dreaming – of her, of them, together as they had not been for months and months now, carnally – in the shower. Steam filled the air, intensifying the smell of her in his lungs. The taste of her so delicious as he sucked the water off of her jaw on his journey from her neck to her mouth. His eyes closed, he felt her lips, open, hungry. She moaned so with the kiss, weakening his knees. My God he wanted her, with every fiber of his being. He lifted his knee between her legs, pushed, asked, for her permission. Hot blasting fire burst out of his nostrils as she granted it, spreading her legs, opening herself to him. She broke off their kiss, her teeth pinching and scraping along his bottom lip so enticingly before she said, "Please William," somehow the perfect notes of her voice vibrating the tuning fork of his soul. It sent a charge through him, jolted his groin with the thunderbolt. This woman was his, and he would take her. He slid his hands up her back to roughly grip her shoulders, holding her down tight. His teeth took the flesh of her neck – she would be still, held in place, helpless – his. He breached her, their synchronous moans trumpeting the invasion, as he pushed in, squeezed in, deeper and deeper. She fell heavier above his thrusts, she was falling, she was yielding to him completely. Desire seared inside of him and he pushed with all of his might to get deeper and deeper inside of this warm, soft, slippery woman. With each push her voice, her call, erupted in the humid echo of the shower, demanding he get closer to her, with everything he had, he would give it all to her, to be deeper inside of this luscious, luscious woman. He was so close, so very, very close. Her breath hitched, and underneath him she moved, she danced and wriggled as her moan nearly sucked the life out of him. She felt so tight around him – ripples and ripples grabbed a hold of him, the gravity of her pulling him closer and closer… Until he touched it, and he knew then it would come, and he waited for the devastating waves to arrive. "Ohh," he moaned with the sheer pleasure of it. " _More, I need more_ ," he thought as he pumped furiously, long and deep into her. "Mmm" he moaned again, as he slowly noticed it was a pillow – dry, still, cold… And he was in their bed … And against his tip it was cool and sticky… And he was alone.

After stopping off at the tailor to drop off the electric blanket prototype he had made last night, and buying a Christmas tree, William's carriage pulled up to the front of the Victoria Hospital for Sick Children. It was Christmas Eve, and he couldn't help but feel happy as he disembarked with the small tree and a bag with some of Julia's family's ornaments as well. There was a much bigger crowd than usual – " _The Press Conference_ ," he remembered, though he was surprised so many people were here already. He sighed as he noticed staff members being interviewed in the hallways. He could only hope they would tone down their disdain for himself, and particularly for Julia when they knew their words would likely end up in print, but he doubted it. Just before he was noticed, he reminded himself about how much their relationships with some of the staff members had improved, even Nurse Miriam – who he saw being interviewed over there… "And, yes, that is Margaret too!"

"Detective Murdoch!" the voice cried out from behind him. Immediately, all eyes were on him, and then, like a fireworks display in reverse, a small crowd rushed to surround him.

" _Gentlemen, gentlemen_ ," the detective urged for calm, " _My wife and I will speak with you shortly._ "

Questions that would go unanswered for now hurled through the air: "Do you believe the birth of your son is like a Christmas Miracle detective?" And, "How is Dr. Ogden – will she make a full recovery?" And, "Do you find yourself at all sensing the ghost of Dr. Garland in these halls?"

William continued forward, using the Christmas tree like a shield to part the crowd, until he reached the doorway behind the Nurse's Station, and escaped down the hall to Julia's room. A few moments later, Margaret joined them. She told them that Thomas was coming for the Press Conference too, and he would be bringing Constable Crabtree as well.

The hospital room felt quite crowded while they all talked and decorated the tree as Julia ate her breakfast, and they waited for the Press Conference to begin. There was an awkward moment when Julia had asked for some privacy so she could breastfeed William Jr., requesting that only William stay. Margaret questioned whether it was necessary to leave, as everyone in the room had already, "seen everything." Immediately, shocked faces filled the room, surging an ambiance of tension and adrenalin.

"Don't be daft woman!" Thomas yelled at his wife, dragging her out of the room, George close on their heels. William and Julia found themselves staring at each other in disbelief in the wake of the buzzing of the sudden emptiness of the room.

"What do you think she meant by that?" William asked.

"Perhaps the Inspector told her about the nudist camp?" Julia suggested, her face wrinkling up with apology, for she knew the thought would make him uncomfortable.

"Perhaps," William concluded as he sat next to her holding the baby and helping to place the pillows in front of her. So soon their thoughts dropped away from Margaret's odd comment, as they both became enthralled with the beauty of their nursing son. They agreed that on Christmas Day they would share what they had written to the tiny little boy in their journals.

When the time came, the Inspector, Margaret, and George went out to the hospital waiting room to inform the reporters that the Murdoch's were on their way. William and Julia stood together, William Jr. in William's arms, for the show. There were cameras clicking constantly as the questions were asked and answered. All went according to plan, until a reporter called out, "Doctor Ogden, do you feel at all guilty about relying on the staff here at your dead, pardon me, your _murdered_ husband's hospital to care for you and your child, I mean considering that you and Detective Murdoch were having an affair at the time, and that it was because James Gillies wanted to hurt the detective by framing you that your husband was killed?"

They had not planned for such a question and it had resulted in a surge of panic within each of them. Julia sensed William preparing to respond, but she took his arm, urging him to wait. He looked at her and he knew, by the way she breathed, by the expression on her face, that she had decided to speak the truth. Somehow, this thing that had they had never been able to discuss, that had caused her to walk away from him again, after the trial, this would be the time to address it – right here, right now. What he did not know as he prayed next to her, finding he felt a burst of love for her, for himself, as she did it, was that it was necessary for her to come clean in order for her to truly heal.

Julia took a deep breath and the room hushed. "I do," she answered.

Rapidly, a buzz filled the room, only to silence just as quickly when she inhaled again, preparing to speak.

"Dr. Darcy Garland was an honest, generous, kind man. Well deserving of the love and loyalty of the staff here. He never did anything to deserve such …" Julia hesitated, she needed to regain her composure, she would not cry, "Darcy never did anything wrong except to fall in love with me, it is true. But it is fate that wrote his story, our story, although I did play my part…" There was only silence except for the small puffs and booms of the flash powder as the room became slowly clouded with the white smoke. She continued, "I did make a mistake – I did something wrong, and I do regret it. I should not have married Darcy for I knew my heart would always belong to Detective Murdoch." She looked down, whispered, wanting her husband to hear, "Always." Her next breath was deep, for now she would explain, "It's so ironic that the reason that I left William was because of my condition…" her hand held her belly and she felt the wound from the surgery under the pressure, "Rendering me unable to give him children, and I knew William wanted children…" her voice began to choke up as she went on, "I knew William wanted a family very, very much … And Darcy didn't want children…" The room slowly reacted, all eyes focused on the tiny infant in William's arms. Julia turned, looked her husband in the eye, and continued, "It was only after I married Darcy that I learned that William still loved me despite my inability to bear children…" Their shared look, their son under its glow, said so much – the love was there, but also the pain, for all to see. It was a photo of that moment that was used by most of the papers. Julia swallowed, turned back to the crowd, and said, "William and I did not intend for me to get pregnant, but I did. I never would have thought back then that science would come up with a way to solve this problem, but here we are… And I love this baby so much…" William handed the baby to her, and he wrapped his arm around her – around them. Julia cupped her baby's head, took in the sight of the newborn's face, and then looked at William, "And I know William loves this baby so much too," she added, with tears in her eyes. She looked back at the crowd – her eyes found Nurse Miriam when she said, "And I am sorry. I truly am."

Stunned, the room remained hushed as she turned into her husband's shoulder. William looked at the Inspector, and he stepped in front of the couple, announcing the end of the Press Conference. William and Julia turned and left as the crowd grew loud with reactions and reporters addressed their questions to the Inspector.

Julia tried to apologize to William, but he stopped her. He leaned close to her, kissed a tear away, and tucked her and their little baby tighter into his arms. He whispered in her ear that he loved her, and he was proud of her, and he knew the truth was always right in the end, come what may. He was right. She felt it – the healing that came with telling the truth.

Weeks passed, and finally the day came to bring Julia, to bring William Jr., home. With the baby asleep in the pram, William and Julia stood in the foyer of their house taking off their coats. Julia wrapped her arms around William's neck and held his gaze. The man was so very handsome – sometimes it was so striking, like now.

"Welcome home, doctor," he said.

She felt his hands slide around her waist. She anticipated it, she knew it would come, he would pull her closer. Her heart rushed, and there was that familiar twitch in her womb as she held her breath, waiting. She tilted her head, starting the wave. It was with such a rush, his pull. She felt her head tilt back with the inertia, with the force. And, OH, the magnificence of the feeling of his lips on hers. She felt it, coming out of her in bursts, mingling with the bursts from him – the air, hot from percolating inside of them as it slipped and slid around them. She moaned as her womb twisted with desire – the pain registering just behind the pleasure. She was not fully healed. "My God, those are his fingers lifting my skirt," she thought, being nearly devastated into collapse with the thought. " _I so want this man_ ," she thought as she felt herself falling, the floor rising up underneath her.

The world spun so, when he lifted her from under her bottom onto his hips – she felt his need for her, strong – so strong, it had grown so fast, so hard, against her as he propped her up on top of him, with only the cloth of his trousers and her bloomers stopping the touch of their flesh. She seemed to hear the thud before she felt it, her back slam into the wall, his chest, his weight pressing firmly into her, pinning her there, rendering her helpless. Oh my God she wanted him. Lust coiled her womb tighter and tighter, so delightfully. But she was aware of it now… The sting of her need stretching the sutures – the spot so specific, and the surge of the pain there threatening to buckle her. She had to stop him. She could not bear it. He had her lips, his tongue was deep. His taste delicious, his hunger for her intoxicating. She yielded. "Mmm," she moaned into his mouth. She sucked him in deeper, as she so wanted to do down below. His weight increased on her chest, stealing her breath, as he adjusted her, and then she felt her bloomers going. The barrier giving way. She broke away from his mouth. "William, please," she cried. She floundered so, between want and fear. " _His trousers are still on_ ," she thought when she felt him thrust powerfully against her. Such arousal – she had forgotten its power. But the tear – the ripping pain panicked her to the core. "William, please…" she begged and he pumped roughly, demandingly again. "We can't…" she tried. He took a solid hold of her neck and he sucked against her skin, so hard. And the pain in her womb tortured her, forcing her to push him away. "Stop William!" she cried. His hands gripped around he shoulders tighter, locking her in place. Tears flowed now as she cried out, "Ohh… It hurts!" and she shoved against him with all her might. "Stop William. You're hurting me!" she pleaded.

He released her neck … All motion stopped, only their hearts thumping against the other and the labored breathing rushing past their ears. The panic slowed inside of her. He let go of his firm hold of her shoulders, still pinned her to the wall. "I'm sor…" she started to say.

It startled her, the sound of the wall next to her ear as it received its punch. So quickly, panic pumped through her once more. " _He's angry?!_ " she thought. She tried to see his face, but could not as it was tucked into her neck. Feet to the floor, weight off her chest. He's gone! Already at the door!

"William!" she cried out, her body already curling around the pain in her womb, her hands holding, containing, the still-screaming sting from her deep wounds. "I'm sorry, William!" she said as she hurried to him and the door opened and the cold rushed in.

His back to her, he stood still for a brief second, and turned his head back towards her, and said, seeming absent of all emotion, "It's alright," before he left.

She stood there, staring at the door, stunned. Her hair felt blown back, as if she was standing in the path of a cyclone – but the deafening silence convinced her there was no wind. She worked to soothe herself, " _He will be back. We'll talk this out, I'm sure. Everything will be fine._ "

She took the baby upstairs, lay him in the crib near their bed. She took a shower. The warm, rushing water comforted her. Afterwards she woke William Jr. and nursed him. They walked and talked as she burped him and they explored all the rooms upstairs together. All the while, listening for the door. " _He had no coat,_ " she thought with a sigh. It was useless to worry. But, as expected, the logic failed. William Jr. grew sleepy, and Julia put him back in the crib. She suddenly remembered, as exhaustion seemed to envelope her, that she had not stayed awake and up and active for nearly as many hours as she had today since the day William Jr. was born. She was not back to normal yet, she needed sleep to heal.

When William returned he checked on Julia and the baby. They both were asleep. He was much calmer now, and yet shame stirred in his gut and still threatened to make his skin crawl with the discomfort of being stuck with himself. He changed and went down into the basement to lift weights and distract himself from his suffering.

When he returned to their bedroom, he was surprised Julia was still asleep. He remembered how much she slept in the hospital and guilt surged through him once more. Shaking his head with disgust at himself for having behaved so brutishly. The taste in his mouth sickened him. He was sweaty from the work-out, but mostly, he just felt dirty and revolting. He needed a shower.

Julia awoke, the sound of the shower filling her with relief. _He was home_. But just after the relief there was the worry. She had to admit, she was confused … at his anger. He knew they weren't supposed to make love for a couple more weeks yet. And he had never …

The shower shut off. Fear, it was definitely fear. She sat on the side of the bed, knuckles against her mouth. She needed to think.

William walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Their eyes met briefly, both darting away from the contact instantly. She watched him from her seat on the edge of the bed as he walked over to check on the baby. She watched, realizing he was feeling stress, and he was feeling regretful, as he reached up and rubbed his forehead, and he sighed.

"Come here, William," she said, her voice calm and warm.

He walked over and sat next to her and she reached over and cupped his cheek tenderly. She looked into his beautiful brown eyes, trying to tell him with all her might that she loved him and that it would be O.K.

"Don't be kind to me Julia," he said, "I don't deserve it." He stood up, to walk away.

She stood as well, and took his elbow, stopping him from leaving. She stepped in front of him and felt her heart tug with love for him as he diverted his eyes. She saw it there – shame.

"Well then, William Henry Murdoch," she said as she slid her fingers along his chest and hesitated over his scar from the meat hook wound, "Today must be your lucky day, because you will receive my kindness anyway."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and their connection was strong, his profound appreciation obvious. She kissed his lips, softly, and quick. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She had given him … at best mixed signals, though more accurately, she had encouraged him up until the end, then switched to trying to stop him. She wanted to tell him how much she wanted to make love too…

"I'm sorry Julia," he started. "And I'm very ashamed … that I … was so aggressive and …"

She placed a finger to his lips, halting his words. She leaned in closer to him and her voice caressed his ear. "I'm sorry too William. I wanted it … I want it very, very much as well. But, um, it still … I'm not ready."

He pushed her back and sighed. His eyes struggled to look her in the eye. "Julia," he said, "I never thought I would ever …" he looked away, the shame was too great. He finished his words with eyes fixed on the wall behind her, "I never thought I would hear you say "stop," and keep going. I don't think I can forgive myself for …"

Her finger took his chin, and brought his eyes to hers. "You did stop William," she said. He wrinkled up his face, she was right, and he was still sorry. They would address how angry he had become later, she thought. They needed to be close now. She needed him to know his need for sexual release was not something to be ashamed of. She kissed him, and she touched him, and she felt their passion growing. She was in control now, she would keep her own arousal in check. "I want to make you feel good, William," she said seductively in his ear in between kisses and nibbles.

Her nipples teased his chest through her nightgown as she kissed and tortured his face and his lips and his neck. He heard his own breath surge out of his nostrils as lust began to take him. He wanted her closer – but he would not grab and he would not take. He slid his hands up her back, and felt his brain begin to swirl as his fingers dipped in at her tiny waist and he felt her ribs in his hands. He didn't pull, rather he stepped to her, rewarded by the warmth of her supple flesh as it molded around the contours of him. " _She is so soft_ ," the thought swayed and teased before falling away. Her fingers grasped the top of his towel, fiddled, and the towel dropped to the floor. There was no hiding it now – he wanted her. "Oh," the air gushed out of him as she took him in her hand – surrounding him in firm, tight warmth.

"Get on the bed, detective," she commanded. He obliged. She straddled him, the cloth of her nightgown between them. She rocked over him, driving him wild. Oh how he fought to maintain control. He bucked up at her and she knew she would need to take him soon.

She crawled off of him and began her scrumptious final torturous descent, starting at his chin, then down his neck, across the beautiful muscles of his chest … kisses, bites and nibbles, the exquisite mixture of her lips, her teeth, her tongue bringing him to the edge of his control. Her fingers on his thigh, so close…She grabbed his thigh muscles, hard and hungry, and lifted his flesh … And then her breath on him. He couldn't take it, "Julia!" he called out. A smile covered her face before she covered him. " _Oh my God!_ " like velvet she slid around him. She held him tightly as she slid him along the roof of her mouth and squeezed him with her tongue. "Ohh," he moaned when he touched firmly, but ever so briefly, the back of her throat. _"Again! Again!_ " he begged in his mind as he felt the soaring height of it all threaten his very existence, take his breath away. He pumped up into her – chasing, hunting. " _Oh yes_ ," he thought as he touched the spot again. He was right there. " _So delicious! Right there!... Oh my God,_ " the thoughts spun. And then he knew he had it. He knew it would come. Nothing! Nothing could stop it, before the heat erupted out of him to spread all through him. He succumbed to the ecstasy of it, and pleasure filled him, dizzy and warm.

Julia kissed her way back up to his face and then lay her body over his, reveling in the pounding of his heart. Waiting for the world where he was and where he would be to meld. He rolled over to place her under him and began to kiss and tease her – but she stopped him…

"Only half of Plan C for a while yet William," she explained. She knew it would trouble him, make him feel selfish if it was only him, without her, that had such pleasure. She would need to reassure him. "So, how did I do?" she asked, knowing he would have to acknowledge his pleasure in order to adequately thank her.

"It was wonderful, Julia. Wonderful," he replied.

"And I will have you know, that my own lust, though surely present, was not painful," she added. She sat up and crossed her legs, sitting Indian-style.

"William … earlier," she said as she firmly met his chocolate eyes, and she noticed the worry enter them, "I want you to know that I was encouraging you, and you weren't reading the signals wrong. I really, really wanted to make love. It's just that, when I became that aroused, it hurt – a lot." He nodded.

There was an uncomfortable silence before William broke it to say, "I think that is why I felt so angry – because I was ashamed that I had hurt you. I was angry at myself for doing that."

Julia doubted that was really the heart of it, and her doubt must have shown on her face for he quickly questioned his own assessment, "Or, perhaps that was later," he said.

She nodded in agreement. "I believe the anger was before the shame, hmm? Perhaps the shame was about the anger?" she suggested.

Oh, that rang true! He so wanted to deny it. Immediately the shame was back, choking off his air, forcing him to swallow to try to push it away. His eyes begged her so. He shook his head, working to deny it. But it was pointless. She was right.

He sat up on the side of the bed, effectively turning away from her. He was having trouble facing it. There it was – the rubbing of the forehead. "Do you think you just were frustrated William?" she asked.

He took a deep breath. "Yes," he replied, "But there's more to it… I'm scared." He took another deep breath as he turned to face her. "I'm scared Julia, that it might not be the same…"

She moved to sit next to him. My God, he was onto something, she knew it. She was worried too! She took his face in her hands, feeling an intense love and awe for him burning in her chest. "William, you are brilliant. I think you have figured out what this is all about. I'm scared of losing what we had too," she said. She sighed, let go of his face and took his hand. Her fingers slid along his wedding ring. It always had a way of reassuring her to feel it there – on her husband. They had each other, forever and ever. "I hope that, when we do make love again, that it will be as amazing and wonderful as ever…" she said, there eyes locked together, "But… if it isn't… well it will have to be good enough … And I think it will have been worth it – to have the baby. Don't you?"

He wasn't as quick to agree as she would have liked, it somewhat surprising her.

"William?" she asked, "Are you worried I won't love you as much, because of the baby?" he wrinkled up his face. "You are," she exclaimed. "William, I know in my heart and my soul, that I will never love you less, no matter how many children we have… Don't you feel the same about me?"

He nodded, his quick response and solid rhythm signaling his certainty. "Of course," he responded.

She nestled closer to him and said, "Perhaps it will be different… But I'm sure it will still be strong – and invincible as ever, our love. I think even stronger, as we work together as parents. We have always been our best when working together."

He agreed, pulling her close and pulling her into a hug.

She straddled him again, sitting in his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Feel better?" she asked, to be rewarded with a smile and a nod. "Good," she replied, noticing that she sounded like him. "Now, I'm starving – and I believe, knowing Eloise, there is something delicious waiting to be heated up for dinner. How about … I'll wake the baby. It's probably about time for him to nurse again anyway. And you start dinner?"

"Good," he replied with a bow.

 **They were definitely going to be alright – to be honest, much better than alright, after the healing was done.**


	18. Chapter 18Like the First Time

Journal Journeys_Like the First Time

Thursday night

Julia sat in their living room, in what she had come to think of as William's chair – the reclining one, closest to the fire. Her own journal lay open on the arm of the chair. Although she was bathed in the warm yellow light of the lamp next to her on the table, she had scarcely noticed that darkness had crept in and taken the room. Their 5 week-old son slept quietly upstairs, but with a mother's ear, she never completely lost her awareness of the absence of the sounds of his crying flowing down the stairs. William would be late tonight. She would work not to worry – hence the drowning of her mind in the reading.

Ever since the day she discovered that William had a journal, she had kept her promise never to read it without his permission, as she was sure he reciprocated with hers, but she still found pleasure, and sometimes quite a bit of enlightenment, in reading her own thoughts and memories. She usually randomly picked pages, letting fate guide her discovery. Currently she read about William's phobia, amazed that the words, which she heard in her head in _his_ voice – with his gestures, still made her laugh out loud…

" **They make me uneasy, is all. Have you ever watched them? They're completely unpredictable. First they fly left, then they fly right, then straight at you. They defy logic," he had tried to explain. When I offered that dragonflies do the same, and in my opinion are much scarier than butterflies, of all things, he could only claim that dragonflies were different. (I'm sure that he would hate that I say this, but my God he was so adorable when he became frustrated as I pushed him to explain** _ **how**_ **dragonflies are different). He had tried to end the whole discussion with, "They just are." I believe I had a glimpse into the little boy inside of him, and I must say, I love him even more for having seen it. Of course, William has let himself be vulnerable with me before, like after his dream when he kissed Eva Pearce, and I always find his trust in me, when he opens himself up so completely, warms my heart – but this was different. I knew it – I knew it would somehow be connected to his childhood, even if he did not. Such an odd thing, a grown man – one brave enough to rush into danger when everyone else is running away from it, a man who protects the down-trodden more than any I have ever met … now that defies logic, that such a man is frightened of a beautiful insect – an enchanted little creature loved the world over, by little girls even. There must be more to this…**

Julia took a deep breath and let her memory run forward. She remembered watching William's struggle to try to appear calm, strong – fine, when she pulled the cover off of the cage to reveal the colorful, fluttering butterflies housed within it. She knew he wanted to turn and run away, but he held his ground – didn't even take a step backwards. His eyes begged so, for her to drop the whole thing, to leave it alone. And she could also tell that he was talking to himself in his head – that he told himself to trust her. "The helpless look on his face when he asked, "Please don't open the cage," it nearly broke my heart – more like melted it I guess," she thought to herself. She sighed, "What must it have been like at 8 years-old to find your mother dead?" she thought… As with all of us, so much of what had happened to William had helped shape him into who he had become. If his mother hadn't died, he never would have been raised by Jesuit Priests – so much of his amazing intellect would not have blossomed …

Pulled out of her thoughts, she was slightly startled by the infant's first cry, and amazed at her body's reaction – for she felt an urge to suckle the baby instantly – almost like a pain in her breasts. After nursing their son, Julia considered trying to sleep. It was nearly midnight. She had been home from the hospital for two weeks now. She felt much, much stronger, thus not needing nearly as much sleep. She sighed at the sight of their empty bed. Her need for sleep had shifted from being necessary to heal from the surgery to being needed as a result of having to nurse William Jr. every 2-3 hours. She decided she was not tired enough yet to try to fall asleep without William. " _Hot Chocolate_ ," she thought, and headed downstairs.

The warm mug half empty, she re-opened her journal. This time it would not be fate. She knew what she wanted to read. She wanted to remember more clearly – about the first time.

 **The Queen's Hotel – we do have such a history here. The first night together – the man I love, the man I lusted for more than I ever thought was possible – brings dominoes! Well he didn't bring dominoes this time!**

 **I don't think it would be possible to write down all of the things I had been worried about here… Perhaps I'll mention a few of the major ones. William, though he never told me directly, had not ever made love to a woman before. I am quite certain. Sure, I had learned that he had been somewhat intimate – with Ettie Weston, a prostitute, actually a Madame. And he is quite skilled at bringing pleasure to a woman, having learned quite a bit from Miss Weston, as I already knew first hand from our night together at my family lake-house after Father had died. But he had never made love in the traditional sense, and I wondered, worried really, if he would be good at it.**

 **I suspected so, but Darcy too had never had the experience before our honeymoon – and he was not good at it. He got a little better, not finishing within a mere 5 seconds like the first time – but Darcy never got particularly good at it. And maybe William would become so overwhelmed by his desires that he finished too quickly too. Or even worse, I was worried that William's strong self-control, to the point of self-denial really, might end up stopping him from finishing at all … Or maybe he wouldn't even be able to start. To be honest, I was absolutely a nervous wreck.**

 **But Oh my God, what a pleasant surprise. William has a deep-seated confidence, and it was on full display last night. (Later he told me that the Inspector, and something warm and flippy-like happens in my stomach when I think of the Inspector giving advice to William about our honeymoon, but anyway, the Inspector told him not to let me take charge). It was a little awkward as he put on the prophylactic, but we were both so aroused by then – the man is a marvel at fore-play (now that's the self-control … And I guess Ettie Weston too). I have only had two other lovers, but it is clear to me now, that neither of them had any idea that the woman could, I dare say in William's mind, should, have pleasure during the act itself. Or perhaps it is just that most men think women will be pleasured by the act done as it pleases the man. But not William … he knew somehow, that he needed to bring me along, that he wasn't doing this alone, we were doing this together.**

Julia giggled as she read the next part, followed by a big smile…

 **He didn't know what I would sound like though, stopping when I moaned – And my goodness, did I MOAN! So sweet – he was worried he had hurt me, which, of course now that I think of it, makes sense. He didn't get the timing quite right, though I do know the man, and it was his plan I'm sure, to make sure I finished before he let himself go. But he got it by the second time – My God, did he get it!**

 **I am far from nervous now, a better description would be hungry, starving even, outright ravenous with need for him. I truly can think of nothing else. Off to New York City we go. This is going to be good. I do believe, our life together is going to be good – really, really good.**

" _And it has been_ ," Julia thought as she closed the journal and shut off the light. She stayed curled up in the reclining chair in the softly moonlit room, thinking, remembering, waiting – for William to get home. They had talked about it. They were both worried about how things would change between them now that they had William Jr. in their lives. Julia sighed as she entertained thoughts of some of the problems that plagued her, particularly the sexual ones. She had studied her body in the mirror – She knew it had changed, and not for the better. Her belly was still bulgy, and her skin was loose and even appeared wrinkled. She had lost a lot of weight with the stress and recovery from the surgery, and she saw it had left her quite bony. And then there were her breasts. She sighed again, reminding herself that they had a different purpose now – no longer for attracting a man, now fully adapted to the need to nourish their child. " _These breasts are not only NOT attractive,_ " she thought, " _They are out-and-out repulsive – more like rubber bags of water than moldable flesh… And the colors – ugly, striped with the blue of all those veins. But the worst of all_ ," – and with the thought of imagining William touching them, kissing them, sucking on them, her heart leapt with fear and shame – "The nipples are revolting, swollen, very, very swollen, and too dark…" And the absolute worst thought of all – the nipples would give out milk. She just knew it, milk would come gushing out, disgusting him, if he kneaded her breasts, if he sucked on her nipples, as he was want to do, as she herself so loved when he did. Isaac had said it would take 6 weeks for her to heal, and it was nearly time. She placed her fist to her lips; she was worried.

She heard the key turn in the door. He was home. He was safe. He was fine. The case had been solved!

Saturday morning

Perhaps it shouldn't surprise her, based on how strongly lust and desire had driven her wild when it had happened for real, but now, upstairs in their bed, Julia re-created their lovemaking – well in actuality they had had to settle for Plan C, when they had met up in the middle of the night for hot chocolate, down in the kitchen, after he had been nearly killed, hung up by his shoulder on a meat hook. She now dreamt of that passionate time, imagining feeling, hearing, the thud of her back against the kitchen wall, his kiss rough, demanding she yield to him, surging his tongue into her, and pushing over and over again into her mouth, with a rhythm that called to her deepest instincts. Her own moan spurred an even more severe twist of her womb, as she tasted it fleetingly, metallic, from the iron in the blood on the cut on his lip, so quickly forgotten as she imagined what would come next. The immense weight of him pressing against her stole her breath, making a dizziness that spun her world out of control.

" _What was he wearing?_ " she thought, instantly remembering the feel, the sight, of her fingers gliding along the collar of his red pajamas, popping open the top buttons, his delicious skin and muscular curves coming into view. She would pull the string on his pajama bottoms, release him. He lightened for a moment, shifted lower, and then drove the weight of his body into her, the force causing her to gasp. She felt him hard, powerful, against the bottom of her belly. " _My God,_ " she wanted him inside.

She slid her hand down, found the string, and tugged, delight pumping through her as the tension built against her fingers and then suddenly let go. He moaned, the sound overwhelming with need. "William," she begged, "Please."

When he stepped back, his pajama bottoms dropped to the floor and she reached around him, such strapping buttocks, in her hands. The cadence of his rushed, hot breaths barreled over her ear, hurried, and building in strength. " _He's lifting the nightgown_ ," her thought disappeared in her brain. She was soaring … to such amazing heights … the world dropping away underneath her. "William, please… Hurry!" she pleaded. She felt her nails digging into his flesh as she pulled him closer to her with all of her might. " _The bloomers_ ," she remembered as she felt his fingers wrap into the waistband and pull them down.

" _He's going to … Oh my God … Please_ ," she thought, her words unable to pierce the air, for she had no breath, she could no longer speak. "Oh," the air surged out of her in a whirlwind when he ruptured her, so delicious, so fierce. She moaned, not sure she could withstand the pleasure of it as he slowly, firmly pushed in, " _Thank God,_ " deeper and deeper. She wrapped her legs around his waist, inviting him in even deeper still, and he slid in more, the pressure seeming to reach up to her throat. " _His testicles_ ," she thought, as they caressed her skin. She heard it, her breaths flooding into his breaths, in the silence of the pause. And she waited, knowing it would come, knowing it would crush her very being…

His urgent grunt flamed her ear with the first huge thrust, forcing the air out of her lungs to dance with the sound, "Uhhh," then "uhhh," again, and again, with each pounding thrust, their sounds melded to surround them and then slowly drift away. The feelings so exquisite, driving her towards the edge with crazed yearning. "William! Don't stop," she cried out, knowing he was thundering forward now with everything he had. "Don't stop," she begged. Each of his luscious grunts promised her impending fulfillment, and then she felt it – the world tipped, gravity changing sides, before the plummet began. It was earth-shattering when it erupted, so deep inside of her, cascading outward in wave, after wave, of warm ecstasy. "Mmm," she moaned, intensifying the pleasure as she felt his rhythm, their rhythm, slow and lengthen together. "Oh my God, you are magnificent," she heard her words whisper into his ear, before his shower of kisses, and his sucking breaths soaked in the last drops of her. "You are delicious, Julia," she heard his voice say. "Mmm," she uttered again, wallowing in that last heavenly burst as it gushed through her depths.

Her heart still pounded against her chest as she woke from the dream. " _Oh my God, that was good_ ," she thought, the warm, yummy feelings still flowing inside of her, now conscious, but not yet fully aware that her world was still spinning. " _Just a dream_ ," she thought, out of breath, " _Just a dream_." She looked for William. She was alone. " _Saturday_ ," she thought. Finally her world met with the ground. She was awake now. It was a Saturday morning. He was home. Not in the bathroom. The baby is gone too. Probably downstairs… She would go to him. Tell him it was time. It was definitely time.

She thought to herself that he was probably in the kitchen before she smelled the bacon, immediately after she opened their bedroom door. She so loved it when he took care of her like this, when he defied traditional roles, and did something most husbands would never do, like cook, or care for their infant. Her heart basked in the warmth of his care now, knowing he was doing both. But, the intensity of the feeling soared when she heard it – William was singing. My God, his voice was so lovely. She rounded the corner, finished down the rest of the staircase, felt so at home as her bare feet walked across their wooden floor, his voice growing louder with her approach. " _Amazing Grace_ ," she thought, " _He's singing, 'Amazing Grace_." And yet, she was still unprepared for the power of the joy she felt with the sight, its beauty halting her at the entranceway to the kitchen. William stood at the stove, tending to the bacon, his back to her. He wore only his pajama bottoms. Their baby, so tiny, cuddled in his right arm. The tiny child wore only his diaper. Julia knew the exquisite sensations they would each have, of the feeling of their naked skin against the bare skin of the other. William's ear pressed against the baby's head. She knew the infant felt the vibrations of William's singing in his chest, as he lay so snugly next to his father.

"That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now I'm found,

Was blind but …" William sang.

William Jr. fussed, threatening to cry, prompting William to stop his song. He lifted the little infant in his two hands, and held him out to the side to avoid the heat from the stove. "Now listen here little man," William said, "There is no call for such complaints. You know what happens to babies when they fuss," he playfully threatened.

William Jr. wrinkled his face and it began to redden as he prepared to cry.

"Fussing? Fussing babies get belly blows – you know this," William warned his son, to no avail. Just before the child burst into tears, William lifted the small infant into the air, planted his face in the boy's belly, and blew a trumpeting burst of air into the boy's baby-soft flesh.

Julia was sure she saw it – William seemed to see it too – _a smile_! "Well hello to you too little man," William said, excitement in his voice. He brought the child back to his chest and returned some of his attention to the bacon on the stove while he continued to talk with his little son. "I bet you're hungry. If I were going to have as magnificent of a breakfast as you are going to have I would fuss about waiting too. Your Mommy sure does taste good," William said.

A coy smile took Julia's face while she watched, leaning against the door frame. She felt like she could just melt around him, she loved the man so. She cleared her throat, drawing William's attention, and walked up behind them, "Good morning," she said. Julia wrapped her arms around William's waist from behind and rested her lips into the side of his neck to flutter kisses up into his ear. As she turned him to face her, she reached over to turn off the stove. Once she had his gorgeous eyes focused on hers, she reached up and rubbed his well-built chest and said, "I believe it is _**you**_ who is about to have a magnificent breakfast, husband." Then she whispered in his ear, "Come make love to me William."

Thrill pumped through her as she watched his face change, desire taking him quickly. She knew this look. It threatened to collapse her. So focused, his jaw tight, it could be interpreted as anger, but she knew it was what showed when he fought to maintain control. "Come," she repeated, and then took his free hand and led him upstairs.

Julia stood at the foot of their bed and watched him as he placed William Jr. into the crib. She felt the air rushing out of her nostrils as her chest heaved with the yearning that grew inside of her. She so loved the sound of his voice, not quite aware of what he was saying to their baby as much as she felt the tones and the notes of his voice seep into her core. Her eyes traveled over his body, and she felt it becoming hard to breathe, even hard to think. He stood up and looked her in the eye. She reminded herself, " _Breathe_." Her womb coiled tighter and tighter, the feeling tingling her memories of how wonderful it felt to be closer to him – much, much closer.

He stepped to her, and the world around her shifted … His breath on her. She needed to slow this down, but to do so she would need to speak. She tilted her head… He moved closer to her lips – so very, very close, increasing the magnetic field around them, the forceful pull between them spinning them into a carouselling spiral. She would lean back, she would increase the distance, and warn him – about how it would be different. But then, his hands slid into her hair, so delightful. He had taken hold of her head… the kiss was coming, unavoidable, irresistible…

She had opened her mouth to him before she felt the softness of his lips, placed her tongue at the entrance … " _Please William_ ," her words begged in her mind. She exhaled through her nostrils, flooding his face with her desire, when she felt the plushness, the slippery, warm, delectableness of his tongue as it slipped into her. Her knees buckled, giving her no choice but to find him with her arms, wrap around his waist, hold on, to prevent the inevitable fall. To moan so, with this very first touch – it called to him, urgently.

The baby made a happy scream, followed with the thud of his feet slamming down on the mattress of the crib. " _He is being so good_ ," she thought. The distraction freed her, and she broke off the kiss, the wonderful, wonderful kiss. "William," she said, finding her own eyes so slow to open, wanting to stay in the depths with this man. She opened her eyes and sighed. He was right there, eyes bright and dancing. "I think we need some … um," she sighed again, "Some ground rules," she stated.

He stepped back, surprised. "Ground rules?" he asked with an eyebrow raised at her. He released his hold on her head and slid his hands down to her shoulders.

She stepped back another bit and tried to explain, apology and worry now present, "We discussed this William. It is going to be different."

His face softened, and if anything, he leaned closer. He reached up and took a curl, bringing his eyes to focus on the wavy, cascading blond wisp, allowing his mind to think without their connection drawing his thoughts away into the abyss. He would do anything for this woman – anything. If she needed it to be different, then it would be different, he thought. He waited.

Julia moved back some more, and touched his chin, turned him to meet her eyes. " _My God, they are gorgeous,_ " she thought with the warm, chocolate-colored connection. She so wished her voice were not so squeaky as she started to explain. "I think my breasts need to be off-limits," the words seeming to cause him to wobble with their impact. Such a tug his eyes gave her. She swallowed and then rushed to continue, to help him see. "William … um," she tried as her eyes drifted to the crib behind him. "I um … they are not as attractive now …. And well, they are filled with baby's milk … and …. I am afraid that, um, that if you …"

He nodded, and instantly relief flowed through her. He understood.

She sighed, feeling safer now. She would press on. She swallowed again, her voice sounding less shaky, she said, "And I would like to keep my nightgown on." Stopping there, letting the statement stand on its own.

Not lacking compassion, he felt a battle ensue inside of him. Oh, how he wished she would trust him. Such concerns were not necessary. He wanted nothing more than to touch her, be with her, completely, and as she was now – not as his memory defined her, but as this warm, soft, luscious woman that stood right in front of him, right now. So familiar he was with this nearly helpless feeling – once again words failing him. He decided he would need to show her, instead.

"Julia," he said, stepping close to her once more. "There are some concessions I am willing to make…" his tender voice reassured her. But his hands slid around her hips, then up the small of her back. The touch so magnificent, she began to lose her thoughts as they started their orbit. She lost her breath when he broke her rules, his warm, firm hands gliding forward, up over her ribs and onto the curves of her breasts. His eyes dropped to watch his fingers gently push into the pliable flesh, squeeze, and push the rounded pillows together. His groin reached for the cleavage, so luscious, so enticing. Air blast out of him, announcing his urge. Julia yielded to the temptation, a lustful moan escaping from her throat. She _did_ want him to touch her – like before. She could not deny it. His fingers swirled around a nipple, then came in to definitively pinch it. He had to put his mouth on her, tilting his head, leaning in and tasting her jaw, then her neck. He took her earlobe in his mouth, sucked on it, weakening her further. The warm roar of the rapids of his breath cascaded over her ear as he released her flesh and said, "I agree … to putting my mouth on you, everywhere on you … _except_ , your delicious, magnificent nipples."

Her head spun so, somehow feeling it through the anticipation, his lips, his tongue, then a nibble – "Everywhere," her word making it out into the air, somewhere between a question and a demand.

"Everywhere," he answered her as his hands moved down.

She fell into him once more, her brain registering another happy coo from the baby, before she soaked in the solid feel of her husband's muscles as she slid her fingers up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Now his hands captured her buttocks, and William moaned with the treasure. "I want you," he whispered.

" _Oh my God_ ," did she want him too. So helplessly she melted. She was so weak, defenseless against him, taken completely by his charms, offering nothing but hunger when he began to lift her gown. He was breaking the rules – taking complete control, and she was stunned, crumpled, devastated.

Briefly the cold air touched her skin, the nightgown over her head and then fluffed to the ground, and he whispered, "Touch me Julia. Touch all of me," and then she felt the pressure behind her as he pulled her to him, and then their skin touched, and they both moaned with the intolerable pleasure the cloaking caress brought.

She remembered … Oh my God she remembered. "William, please," she called out. She kissed him, giving in to her hunger. He reached below her buttocks and lifted her up onto his hips. She felt him, ready, solid, against her. "Please…" she said, holding on so tight with the spin as he turned and dropped them, together, down onto the bed, his weight pressing down on top of her. "Take me William. I'm yours. All yours …" she cried, her need so strong she felt she might fall into tears. Demandingly, she reached down to guide him into her, but he found her wrist, lifted it up above her head and pinned it to the pillow. He was in charge. She was his. His legs between hers, he spread her thighs, and her womb flipped so she felt it flood in her brain.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she held her breath trying to withstand her need. He released her wrist, grabbed her shoulders firmly, pulling her down while he drew back… "Ohh," she moaned with the pressure, the scrumptious, scrumptious pressure as pushed forward and she was forced to succumb to him, to let him in. Deeper, deeper he slid in. His teeth helped to hold her down, locking into the muscle at the base of her neck as he pulled her shoulders down, maximizing the impact of his force as he drove forward deep inside of her.

She would yield to him. Deeper. His moan rumbled into her ear after he released his mouthful of her neck. "You feel so good," he whispered. Devastating – the first thrust. "So good," he said again.

He thrust powerfully into her again … and again. Gravity had seized her. The cataclysmic fall had begun. There was nothing to be done to stop it. "William," she called to him. He needed to hurry.

Deep inside of her she felt his touch explode her – so melty warm, so delicious. Oh, she wanted the ripples to continue, pushing, spreading, _everywhere_ , over and over, again, and again, and again. His rhythm changed, and she felt the crescendo begin. To her amazement, her own waves of pleasure gushed again to join his. "Oh," she cried out with the discovery. She squeezed him tight and rode the waves. "Oh my God, William," she cried.

"You gorgeous, gorgeous woman," his voice poured over her, as he slowed and he pumped, reluctant to stop so he could cherish the final morsels of ecstasy. Then, he felt it, on his chest, as his body stilled. Her breasts had leaked. He decided to ignore the milk, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. But, of course, she felt it too.

"William," she said, breathless. "I'm sorry," she said, placing her lips next to his ear and pushing back against him working to separate from him.

"Oh, Julia, that was fantastic," he responded, smothering her face in kisses. She reached over and pulled the blanket over to use to wipe away the milky liquid between them. He stopped her progress, leaving the blanket between them, and wrapped his arms around her and let his weight cover her once again. As their hearts still pounded, he teased, "There is no point in crying over spilt milk, now, is there?" He so wanted to convince her that it did not matter. He showered her with more kisses.

"Her lips glanced his ear as she said, "William Murdoch! A joke?!"

He rolled them over, bringing her head onto his shoulder. He reached down and took a hold of her thigh, pulling it up over him, reveling in the exquisite feel of her feminine hairs and dampness on his hip. "Do you think it is possible that it got better?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Mm," she answered... Perhaps it didn't matter that there were some changes. " _A pleasant surprise_ ," she thought, " _Just like the first time_."


	19. Chapter 19: Trust in the Wind

Journal Journeys_Trust in the Wind

On this particular late March morning Julia awoke first. Sensations of contentment flooded through her, for her husband slept next to her, his breaths deep and slow, and their 3 month old son also slept in his crib, only a few feet from their bed. As a pinkish glow filled the room, she slid her hand up her smooth naked body to find her breast, so full with milk. Soon William Jr. would awaken, hungry, and she would be able to meet his every need, nourishment, deep, loving gazes, the silky touch of skin to skin contact. She would hold him and nurse him in the rocking chair, her voice talking and humming, letting him know he was so very loved and that all was right with the world.

She had found motherhood suited her, and, in it, she found astounding joy. Yet, she longed for adult conversation, such that stimulated her brain and her intellect – often turning to William to discuss all myriad of scientific and political matters. " _He is such a good man_ ," she thought, turning to take in the sight of his handsome face and his enticingly exposed, well-defined chest beautified by the first blush of daylight. What a magnificent father, and loyal husband – so very willing to take up some of the load of caring for their infant. Though they both were exhausted, they still found they shared a very stimulating love life, thus explaining their current nakedness. It must have been three in the morning the last time William Jr. had awoken crying, needing to be fed and burped and changed. William had gotten up, brought her the baby to nurse in bed, and then it was he who cared for the tiny child. She had fallen back asleep to the sound of him lovingly talking to the boy, only to be awoken a while later, her husband hungry with a different need, one that called to her womb and her soul – a need to be closer to her, to be with her, to dance and bask in their profound love for each other.

They had made love in the darkness – oh, and it had been beautiful, slow, and deep, their moans of desire for each other calling, demanding, maximum effort, drawing every ounce of energy out of each of them, leaving them completely drained, full, and entangled. They had fallen back to sleep clasped together, she remembered, him dropping off a few moments before her. Having shifted somewhat in their sleep, she now slid closer to him again and kissed him softly, her lips grazing across his bristly jaw before they took his earlobe. Her womb clenched; she wanted him again. Her sexual needs seemed only more enhanced now that they had William Jr. Such joy pumped through her with his scratchy moan announcing his awakening. His arms wrapped around her, she felt his biceps bulge as he pulled her tighter. "Good morning Mrs. Murdoch," he said, his voice deliciously raspy in her.

As he tucked his mouth into her neck, his unshaven face caused a surge of need for him in her womb. Then his sucking on her skin flipped her insides and her head began to swim in the delectable delight of her want for him. "William," she called, her voice sultry, immediately drawing his hot demanding breath to flow over her skin. He rolled her over onto her back, his lips found her mouth. Oh how he teased her with his kissing, pressing down into her, knowing the perfect rhythm to use to drive her wild. Building and building in depth, each push adding more pressure from his body on top of hers. She felt his readiness against her upper thigh – so close, so very, very close, causing her to uncontrollably arch up into him and, " _oh my_ ," what a moan came out of her, drowning into his mouth – fueling his hunger. He released her mouth and she felt his teeth take her neck – her mind spun and seemed to drop from such an abysmal height, rendering her weak and helpless in his arms. "William, please," she called.

She realized it, with intoxicating dizziness. He was moving down, his lips on her shoulder, her chest – driven wild as he nibbled on her breast and his hands explored her ribcage, her slopes and curves, Both of his hands took a firm hold of her waist and he lifted her breast up to his mouth, forcing him to moan as he took her in – the sound so desperate that she could do nothing but fall faster. Now his kisses on her belly, and the swirling of her brain as his calloused hands pushed against her inner thighs, squeezing the muscles as he spread her apart, opening her, rendering her completely vulnerable to him. " _So warm! So soft!"_ so lusciously, lusciously soft, his tongue demolishing her with the first touch. "William … What are you doing to me," she pleaded. " _Oh my god_ ," how he rocked her. Her fingers tangled into his beautiful black hair – and she pulled, she pulled as hard as she could. She couldn't bear his delicious torment.

William felt the smile grow on his face along with the pain of her demand sharply against his scalp. In all the world, nothing felt better than driving his wife to the edge as she was now. Her body writhed, glistening and salty with sweat – so taught and soft – and those moans. Nothing he had ever experienced produced such a feral need in him as those moans escaping from her throat. He could not wait one more second! No – he needed to be inside of her NOW!

Before he remembered deciding to do so, he had covered her. His arms firm and tight around her, fingers grasped roughly into her shoulders, pinning her in place under him – and he breached her. Oh how his head swirled and his own breath surged out of him, dizzying his height with the feel of her yielding around him, letting him in. He pushed up into her slippery, tight, warm secret space, dug deeper, drove harder. Oh and she moaned! He was losing control – his first powerful thrust taking her breath away in a gasp, triggering the next thrust. He tried to pull it back, to listen to her, to know if she was close, to wait for her if need be. But BOOM! His own body broke away… BOOM again. " _Slow down_ ," he coached himself, but the surge of his own muscles in his buttocks defied his inner voice, the sheer effort of the thrust eliciting a grunt that pierced Julia's ear, and then he felt her nails dig in and he would no longer try to fight it. He had to have her. She was his…

The baby's cry shifted their plain, changed the rhythm for a moment. William's next thrust was just as strong, but Julia's voice absorbed the impact, "He's hungry," she said. "William, I have to go to him," his next thrust pounding into her as she said it.

"He can wait a minute," William's husky voice demanded and he pounded into her again. He was so close. " _Right there… I've got her… Right there,_ " his brain teased.

"Let me up William," she ordered, pushing against his chest and trying to slide out from under him. "William!" she insisted with a raised voice.

He couldn't really believe it – his baby's crying still seeping into his own awareness from the crib just at the edge of their bed. He would have to let her go. He could regain control. He was sure of it. One last pump into her, weaker now, giving up. He pulled out and rolled over, releasing her, her warmth and delicious body to be replaced by the cold embrace of the empty morning air. He listened as she took their son into her warm, soft, naked arms – her voice soothing him, comforting him, consoling him as she carried the quieting baby into the next room.

And then the sharp, piercing pain hit his brain, its severity causing him to gasp and fold over in agony. His groin screamed at him, insufferably – the pain severe, threatening explosion. Such a thing he had never felt before. " _It will pass_ ," he told himself, " _It will pass. Just wait. It will pass._ "

William clenched his jaw to fight back the sting, to control the urge to cry out in pain. The clamping pressure against his teeth tickled and pounded his brain. He rubbed his forehead as it pulsed and throbbed – and the strength of the accompanying emotion, so vile, so unacceptable… He was angry… and that rage pumped through him, resulting in an escalating gritting of his jaw that nearly chipped a tooth with its force. Nausea filled his stomach… and that infuriating anger remained, only to be distracted by the pain in his groin, that had not lessened, that seemed unwilling to pass. He took a deep breath and decided to try to ignore all of this misery. He would get up, get dressed… The anger and nausea surged with the thought; he had to go to work today.

Having finished in the bathroom, William began to dress – underwear, socks, trousers, undershirt… he heard Julia with the baby in the next room. He imagined her sitting, naked with the infant, nursing him while rocking him in the chair. Her voice as she spoke to him, low, kind, reassuring. Normally the sounds warmed him, filled him with happiness, but not today. Today they seemed to only increase his annoyance. Yet, his own reaction disgusted him, and he pushed it down, buried it with anger… And that incensing pain still surged in his groin. Try as he might, his jaw remained clenched. His own state bordered on being intolerable.

Not noticing the bad mood her husband found himself in, Julia walked into the bedroom with William Jr. in her arms. She figured it would be best for William to burp the baby before he had put his shirt on, so she hurried to hand him the infant, saying, "Could you burp him please, while I catch up with getting dressed… He needs to be changed too."

The burden of the baby in his arms ceased his progress towards finishing getting ready for work, and he stood for a moment, stunned by her inconsiderate request. Julia was already out of sight in the bathroom when he recovered. He protested, "Julia, I will be late for work. You don't have to go to work, can't you do it?"

Julia walked to the bathroom doorway, toothbrush in hand, mouth full of toothpaste. "William," she scolded, "We agreed to share the care of our son. And if I take care of him now, you will be finished with breakfast and gone by the time I make it downstairs… And we need some time together…"

William threw a towel over his shoulder and marched out of the room to burp the baby anywhere but near her. Julia returned to preparing for the day, plagued by their interaction. She searched for an explanation for his annoyance. Anger of her own rose up from her depths as she came to the conclusion that he was behaving like a spoiled little child who had not gotten what he wanted, her mind taunted him in her imagination, " _Poor William, he didn't get to have his orgasm because his own infant son needed to be nursed_ …" How unreasonable, how selfish, he was being, she thought. Julia sighed with the worry and disappointment. She had been planning to discuss going out for a few evenings with him over breakfast. He certainly was in no mood for that now, she thought. She sighed again; she was supposed to let the Montenegro's know by today if they would be joining them for dinner Saturday night.

She mustered up her courage; she had decided to confront him about his mood. Dressed in only her chemise and bloomers, Julia found William in the baby's room changing the infant's diaper. She walked up behind him, took a deep breath, and asked, "Are you angry with me William?"

William's hesitation in answering her revealed to her that he was. However, when he answered, he denied being angry. He had to, for he felt his anger did not make sense, and therefore could not be admitted to. Julia had not done anything wrong that he could see. His own conscious had been battering him with questions. How could he be angry at her for wanting to care for their son? How could he want her to put his needs over those of their tiny little baby? He was starting to feel it now – shame... And it was more intolerable than the anger.

While he finished pinning-up the baby's diaper, the job nearly perfect – for William had mastered the skill, he explained, "No Julia, I am aware that it makes absolutely no sense for me to be angry with you. I just think you don't know…"

Interrupting him, Julia said, "Emotions are something you _**feel**_ William – they don't, " _ **make sense**_." They just are. If you feel anger, then you are angry."

Her logic was infuriating, provoking in him an urge to punch something. He refused to admit to something as unreasonable as being angry with her for caring for their baby. Besides, he didn't think she could possibly understand how he felt without knowing how much pain he was in, so he knew he needed to tell her. "To be honest, Julia, it completely surprised me myself, but…" he started. William took a deep breath. He was working to hide his shame, as much from his own awareness as from hers. He continued, "I, um, I felt a very sharp pain after … pulling out…" he swallowed, strengthening his voice and burying his emotions, "after I … after we stopped and I, um, pulled out of you. It was quite severe, like when you get a Charlie-horse in your muscle, but even worse… in my groin. It still hurts actually, but it is less severe now." He was unable to look her in the eye. He lifted William Jr. into his arms and walked back into their bedroom.

Julia followed. She knew him; he would not complain of such a thing if it were not significant. She had no idea such a thing could happen to a man, but her medical knowledge led her to believe it was a likely consequence of being so close to ejaculation, having blood flow to, and fill, the male organs, only to have no means of release. It did not surprise her, now that she was thinking about it, that it would hurt. She was trying to remember if they had ever stopped when they were so far along in their lovemaking before. She knew they had been stopped – by phone calls, or even thoughts (like when William would suddenly figure out something about a case), but it had never been when he was so close to climaxing. Regret, yes, she felt a twinge of it.

William placed the baby back in the crib and put on his shirt. Julia tried to catch his eye, but he was clearly avoiding looking at her. She sighed, looked to William Jr., who seemed content for now, lying in his crib, so she proceeded to finish getting dressed herself. She was unwilling to apologize, so she would have to accept the uneasiness between them, for now. She asked him to help with her corset. He did so. She felt is breath on the back of her neck, reminding her that this act usually stirred arousal in both of them, but now she felt only tension, unpleasant tension. She played out a few things to say in her mind, like, " _Perhaps we should avoid making love in the morning before William Jr. has been fed,_ " or, " _I hope you understand that William Jr. is too young to be left crying in his crib,_ " but nothing felt like it would work to ease the discomfort between them, so she remained quiet.

As William put on his shoes, he finally broke the silence, "So now I don't have time to eat … Or I can eat and be late." She noticed his jaw clenched as he added, still unwilling to look at her, "And if I choose to be late, believe me, I will get teased… And it is getting old. But I will do it. I will help to care for the baby, even though I have to go to work, and you do not – because it is only fair, he is my baby too." He lifted the infant out of the crib and glanced her way. She was done dressing, and had finished putting her hair up. He left the room. She grabbed her shoes and hurried behind him.

Julia heard William greet Eloise, feeling grateful for his ability to be kind and respectful to her despite his awful mood. He explained that he was going to have to eat in a hurry because he wanted to ride his bicycle to work and he did not really have enough time to do so. He had already placed William Jr. in his highchair, and was taking a seat when Julia rounded the corner to join them. She also greeted Eloise. She helped serve William, hoping to help him be less late, by pouring his tea. She decided to breech the subject of attending the Montenegro's dinner party this Saturday night, knowing it was really now or never, and desperately longing to be around some adults. As she took her own seat she said, "William, I would like to attend the Montenegro's dinner party this Saturday night…" Julia looked to Eloise, who had already served William a plate with an omelet and some bacon, and added quickly, "Eloise has agreed to watch William Jr., and I can pump some milk for her to feed him while we are out, thanks to the wonderful breast pump you made," she said with a smile.

She knew he did not want to go. He would need to wear his tuxedo as the Montenegro's were very wealthy and only held very formal dinners. Then she remembered the distress William had recently encountered in being seen by so many of his friends and colleagues, Ettie Weston, Terrence Meyers, the Inspector, and many of the constables as well, as being a member of the wealthy class himself – after it had become common knowledge that the owner of the Armour meat-packing plant, the very same plant that had so disgusted William with its abuse of its workers, that this wealthy, abusive man was her cousin – J. _**Ogden**_ Armour, and therefore was a relative of _**his**_. He likely had an even stronger aversion to being around her upper-class acquaintances now.

William put his fork down and took a sip of his tea. "I don't want to talk about it now, Julia," he said.

She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. For the first time since William Jr. had cried out from his crib, he looked her in the eye… And she felt it – they would be alright. He loved her. He did not want to go, but he would – for her. She smiled gently at him and explained to him that she had to tell the Montenegro's today. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to accept it, and he agreed to go. Then he stood, half of his breakfast still on his plate, and started to walk away. Eloise hurried to place a bag with his lunch in his hands, and he thanked her and left. He had not said good-bye, the remission standing out as very uncharacteristic of him, magnifying the evidence that he and Julia were in the midst of a fight.

At the stationhouse, William found work took his attention, and slowly his foul mood dissipated. As he sat at the worktable eating his lunch of carrots and cheese, his mind drifted back to the morning. He castigated himself for putting his own selfish needs above those of his own child. He felt immense shame with the realization that he was jealous of his own son. Such emotions were completely unacceptable, shameful, and downright disgusting to him. Flashes of memory ripped through his mind taunting him, memories of Julia pushing against him, trying to wiggle free, basically helpless against his superior size and strength. " _Let me up,_ " she had said, " _I have to go to him_." William knew he trusted Julia's instincts as a mother. She had turned out to be a wonderful mother, as he had always suspected she would be. And if her instincts told her not to let the baby wait a few minutes before going to him, then he figured she was right. He wrinkled up the corner of his mouth, admitting it to himself. He was sorry, and he would need to fix it. He quickly finished his lunch, grabbed his coat and hat, and headed out to buy flowers and one of her favorite treats, peanut brittle.

Back at home, Julia sat in the living room attempting to read an article on fighting pathogens in a medical journal while William Jr. slept upstairs. She only _attempted_ to read because her mind fluttered and floundered about with thoughts about their argument – their argument that wasn't quite an argument, but things certainly were strained… and thus were not alright, between her husband and herself. So quickly the memory flickered in her mind…

 _ **She had swayed above him, looking down at him from within her hot-air balloon. He had seemed so uneasy, almost desperate below her, prompting her to ask if anything was wrong. "Nothing is wrong … But nothing is right either, ever since our falling out," he had said.**_

A strong urge to read about this time in her journal took over, and so she went upstairs and pulled it out of her night table drawer. Then she settled in the rocking chair in the baby's room to read it. She thought for a moment, that maybe it was time to bring William Jr.'s crib into this room – his own room. With a sigh signaling her flood of regret and concern, she thought to herself that it probably would have been alright to let William Jr. cry for a minute or two while they finished making love. He was over three months old now. He would likely be able to trust that she would come even if she were not there immediately. She realized now that she wished she had done it differently.

But there were other problems that this morning brought to light. She and William were feeling the strain of caring for their infant – and now those added pressures were causing conflicts between them. With another sigh, her eyes dropped to her journal. The little book held a record of so much of what she and William had gone through – they could handle this too, she was certain. Her mind began to problem-solve as her fingers rippled through the pages, searching for her memories of the time with the balloon. " _Perhaps we should hire a nanny_ _ **now**_ _, instead of when I go back to work as we had planned_ ," she thought. A little voice inside of her told her that William wouldn't like the idea – the idea of hiring servants had always been a touchy subject between them.

" _Here it is!"_ her own voice called out in her head as she found the page. She read:

 **Magic and destiny and love, today I know all of these things are true, for it was not a dream. It really happened. I soared to great heights, higher than I ever imagined possible – and I did so WITH WILLIAM.**

 **I had always known I took balloon lessons with Reggie so I could mend my broken heart. I needed to startle myself, challenge myself. I needed to know I was still alive, that I still could grow,** _ **without him**_ **. And although I didn't believe it was possible to enjoy life again, I knew I needed to try, so I signed up. And the day finally came, and I was so relieved to feel the butterflies of fear and hope dancing in my belly once more. I would be in control. I would rise up, soar above it all. It would help my perspective and my confidence.**

 **When I looked up into the sky, the bright orange and yellow colors of the huge balloon lightening my heart, and I listened to Reggie's final instructions, so scared and so excited, well, I hardly noticed that he was next to me. William… William was next to me. He had found me somehow, and I didn't even know he had been looking for me. I had grown accustomed to coping by ignoring him. It had been essential to do so in order to survive with the pain. Yet, so often I had failed in my endeavor – particularly when his being with Enid Jones was undeniable. But he wasn't with her now, and I felt my heart betray me, and hope, that it was still me that he loved. Oh, I had to march away from that feeling, for it was far more dangerous than flying off on my own in a hot-air balloon. And so, I barely spoke to him, forced myself not to look at him. I was busy, very, very busy, couldn't he see that!**

 **I felt so much safer in the balloon – our boundaries clear once more. But he wouldn't go. There was a force between us… And it was denying the laws of physics. The balloon rose, but too slowly, so much of its energy diverted into its swagger and sway, keeping it just within William's reach. I should have broken free of it, free of him, by now. But the pull was so strong. My heart felt harnessed to him. I wanted him so, and I felt I couldn't have** _ **both**_ **myself AND him. I would have to give up one or the other. And my instinctive care for him blurted out, without me choosing to do so, and I asked him if something was wrong. I had to, for he stood below me, not quite on his knees, but ever so close to being so. My pull to him had never been so strong. I was fighting the urge to jump out of the basket and into his arms… Was he offering me his arms? I was not sure.**

 **He read my concern, reassured me that nothing was wrong, and yet, my balloon would not float away. What hold did this man have on me? But then he said it, clear as day, "Nothing was wrong,** _ **but nothing was right either, ever since our falling out.**_ **" Oh, that said it. He wanted to start again, and I felt it – I knew it was true. He loved me. And although my balloon stayed down, my heart soared with the joy of having his love. But such a realist, I had to make sure that he knew that there were no promises and no guarantees. And I think I said it as much for myself as for him – That We Would Have To See Which Way The Wind Would Take Us! Neither of us had control, I knew that now. And William realized he would have to accept it too, for he stated it plainly, "But that could be anywhere," before he jumped. And then, free form the restraints of needing to be in control, knowing only one thing for certain, that William and I loved each other and we were meant to be together, well with just that, it was profoundly true,** _ **anything**_ **was possible.**

Julia paused in her reading, for it was sinking in. The winds of chance, held together with only the invisible strings of destiny, had brought them to the one place she had believed was impossible. They had parented a child together. At the time of the orange and yellow hot-air balloon, her sterility was the one fact she had still withheld from him. It was that fact that drove her to warn him about the fickleness of the wind. And yet, from where she looked at it right now, each and every seemingly random turn had been inevitably necessary to get them to this magnificent place where they found themselves today, for if she had _**not**_ withheld that secret, then they might _**not**_ have fallen so profoundly in love with each other that it seemed nothing could ever completely break their bond, and if she had _**not**_ left him for Buffalo, although her doing so showed she had lost faith in the wind so she needed to take control, and she and William had married despite her sterility, they would have decided to use prophylactics and she would _**never**_ have gotten pregnant, or if she had gotten pregnant at that earlier time, science would _**not yet**_ have discovered the transverse cesarean section, and they would have had to abort their baby. And she was certain such a thing would have nearly killed William's soul.

No, each twist, each dramatic gust of the wind, was needed to get them here. Even her marrying Darcy, undeniably her biggest mistake of all, was essential, for if she had _**not**_ married Darcy, she would _**not**_ have wrongly been led to believe she could not get pregnant, her incorrect belief resulting from the fact that she and Darcy had had sexual intercourse without using prophylactics and she had not become pregnant. Even though, _**now**_ she knew she should have taken into account the amazing lovemaking she experienced with William. It was quite different, so intense, her body soaking him in with voracious need, and she needed him so often…Of course, _**WITH HIM**_ , it would be different. And so, she was not surprised, on hindsight, that she had gotten pregnant with William even though she had not gotten pregnant with Darcy.

And further, if Darcy had not denied her the divorce, and **so much time had** _ **not**_ **been taken up** trying to be free of Darcy, and then free of the accusation of killing Darcy, and then free of the guilt of having been indirectly responsible for Darcy's death, well then, all of that time that had been necessary for science to solve their problem of allowing her to survive childbirth to become a mother – with the use of the transverse Cesarean section, would not have passed, rendering the dream of she and William parenting a child together to be nothing but impossible.

She saw it clearly, how each string had led them to here. She realized it now, that the moment William had taken the leap into her balloon, she had felt the shift in her – _**she had learned to trust the wind**_ , as long as she was with him. She even trusted the wind to bring her back to him if they had become parted…

Their unlikely child's cry caught her ear from the other room, pulling her out of her thoughts. As she went to him she thought that, William had come to her all those years ago. She would go to him now. They would make things right. She nursed and dressed the baby, and left to go see William at the stationhouse.

When Julia and William Jr. arrived at Stationhouse #4, William was not there. She might have been disappointed but a smiling, happy crowd surrounded her and the infant, and, the whole stationhouse, including the Inspector and George, who had each already seen William Jr. right after he had been born, lifted their heads and jockeyed for position to get a good look at Detective Murdoch's and Dr. Ogden's baby, for the first time. The attention was thrilling. Julia tried to fight the pride that blossomed within her, worrying that she would fall into the typical parental trap of thinking she had an "extraordinary" baby, but finding she fell into the trap all the same.

William wondered for a second, " _What is all the commotion?"_ when he first walked towards the bullpen, but almost immediately he heard Julia's laugh, and then he knew it was her and their son who had drawn the crowd. He almost laughed out loud at himself when he noticed his chest puff out with fatherly, and some sort of strange, manly, pride. He was shaking his head at himself when the crowd shifted around her and their eyes met across the room. He was surprised at the lack of anger or anxiety in her blue eyes. Instead, they seemed infinitely warm. Her eyes moved… to what was in his arms… only then did he remember that he was carrying a dozen roses and a box of peanut brittle. Her face lit into a smile that played with and teased him, and he could do nothing but smile in return.

"Gentlemen," she announced, "I do believe William Jr.'s father is here now. You will have to give him back." Constable Worsley handed the infant back to his mother as all eyes turned to the detective and congratulations rang out.

"I had an unshakable desire to come see you," Julia said quietly to William as he approached. When he stood directly in front of her, William Jr. reaching out to him from her arms, she teased, "I do hope those are meant for me."

William bowed to her and whispered, "Everything I have is meant for you."

"Good," she responded, and she took his empty arm and said, "Then a moment of your time please, detective?" as she walked with him to his office. " _What are the odds?"_ she thought as he turned to close the door, " _Orange and yellow roses, just like the balloon_."

George pushed the baby carriage in behind, said, "Sir. Doctor," and then quickly left them alone.

William took the baby from her and she took the roses and the peanut brittle. "Shall we enjoy some of this now?" she asked, already pulling the string on the box.

"Yum, peanut brittle," William responded, his voice playful and light as his attention was on William Jr., who was currently poking him in the eye.

Julia placed his gifts down on the worktable and then came to stand close to him. She wanted to stroke his tie; oh, how she wanted to flirt with him, but she knew he would be embarrassed – the blinds on his office windows were up and she sensed they were being watched. Instead, she stroked the baby in his arms and whispered to her husband, "The roses are lovely, William. I was wondering, why did you choose orange and yellow?"

Like a magnet that had gotten too close to iron, he felt her irresistible pull. He let it take him, despite knowing all the stationhouse would likely see, and he placed his lips right next to her ear when he explained, "Yellow for our wedding – Orange … invokes in me a fiery passion, a strong enthusiasm and desire, that happens inside me when I think of you."

She stepped closer, bringing their bodies into contact with each other, and igniting that familiar luscious spin in her brain that so often accompanied their magnetism for each other. Her kiss, on the soft dark hair of their infant son, played with the harmony of William's tender kiss of her ear. She turned and found his eyes – his stunning brown eyes. Could it be that all was well with them – that they did not need to talk? She had made the gesture to come to see him here at his work; he had made the gesture to buy her flowers, perhaps everything was fine. An image crossed her mind in a flash, of the two of them in the balloon, gazing up at the flame mechanism and the big, bright orange and yellow balloon as they floated so high above the earth together. He had jumped into the balloon to "talk about it," about starting again – and they had…

"William, she asked, her voice intriguing with mystery, "Do you remember when we made-up and got back together after you had been with Mrs. Jones?"

Oh, his mind was quick. Crisp memories flowed by his mind's eye. First, George and the Inspector standing before him – " _Pining, definitely pining_ ," handing him the paper… And his efforts to hide the huge smile he felt on his face as he read George's note, and he knew he _**could**_ win, once again, Julia's heart. Then the view of the magnificent orange and yellow hot-air balloon towering up into the fresh blue sky, the green field filled with spectators as he rode his bicycle to find her – to get her back. As he dismounted from the bike, he found her, and she was stunning, breathtaking, her red curls and her bright blue dress seemed to sparkle with excitement. "I do," he responded. His fingers took one of her curls and his eyes danced with delight. His face twisted slightly, mischievously and he added, "I believe it required me to take a leap up into a hot-air balloon."

Julia's heart expanded like the helium in the balloon. " _His brain is amazing, and my God, I love him so,_ " she thought. A sly smile grew on her face, for she knew he would, yet she still asked him, "Do you remember the colors of the balloon?"

He returned her smile and, looking quite cocky, he said, "Doctor, are you suggesting that, subconsciously, I chose orange and yellow roses because I associated them with reuniting with you in the orange and yellow balloon and unconsciously I wanted to make-up with you now?"

Julia did _not_ nod her head or say yes. Instead, her psychiatrist training took over and she threw the question back to him. "What do you think, detective?" she countered, and yet her _cat-ate-the-canary_ grin told him that that was exactly what she was saying. She considered telling him what else she suspected, that his urge to buy her gifts, as if to appease _her_ anger, really resulted from his projecting _his_ anger at her onto her. Thus, the gifts provided evidence to her that he had been mad at her, even if he was unwilling to accept it as true. Knowing that his need to project his anger away suggested that he was not ready to see it as his own, she decided to let it be, for now, hoping he would find it on his own.

William considered the suggestion and found he marveled at the power of the subconscious, for he thought his color choices might have been so influenced. He wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, admitting to it, prompting her to giggle.

Julia then took the baby from him and placed him in the baby-carriage. "Shall we talk it through, then?" she asked, her eyes unknowingly falling on the reclining chair in the corner of his office – the very one in which they had spent the night together years ago, talking through their argument about her choosing to marry Darcy and his choosing not to stop the wedding. The memory reassured her and she took a seat at the work table. He took a seat next to her and pulled the baby-carriage close to them. She handed him a piece of peanut brittle, which he took.

Worry was seeping up inside of William, talking about his feelings – which he was pretty sure she was expecting him to do, was certainly not his forte, and especially in the case of what had happened this morning, his feelings were quite unpleasant.

Although she had grown familiar with her reaction to this type of situation, she enjoyed the feeling as her heart melted with love and adoration for William, noticing his rising discomfort. She so loved how he would fight the battle within himself to do the very thing that challenged him more than any other in the world – share his deepest and most uncomfortable feelings. Whenever he did so, she felt such enormous trust from him… She wondered if there was ever anything he did that endeared her more to him than when he trusts her so.

They remained quiet for a few moments, just the crunching of the peanut brittle and the gentle coos from William Jr. being shared between them. When he finally looked her in the eye, she knew he was ready to begin. She smiled at him, took a deep breath signaling she would go first and said, "So, I wanted to come here to tell you that I was sorry about…" She leaned towards him and lowered her voice, realizing that the subject itself would be uncomfortable for him in general, not to mention that they were in his workplace. She took such a firm hold of his eyes, willing him to stay with her, reassuring him that it was alright, and continued, "I am sorry about stopping our lovemaking this morning. I thought about it a lot, and I believe that William Jr…" both of their eyes dropped down to take in the sight of the baby in the baby-carriage, "Well, when I thought about it I realized that he is old enough now, that he would be able to hold on to the belief that I would be coming – that one of us would be coming, for a few minutes if necessary." Julia reached over and touched William's chin, turned his face to hers, and waited for his warm, brown eyes to re-focus on her, and then said, "And William, as a doctor, I should have known, and when I thought about male anatomy and physiology, of course it makes perfect sense, that it would cause you physical pain to stop so close to … finishing. And I want you to know, that I wish I had done it differently… And I promise you William, that I will not ever stop our lovemaking like that again – and I am truly sorry." Her fingers tenderly caressed his jaw and his cheek.

He reached up and took her hand, pulling it away from his face. He did not feel deserving of her compassion, but her suggestion did offer him some relief. "So, you don't think it would have hurt William Jr. to cry… to have to wait, until we had finished?" he asked. The concern, guilt, even shame, he felt were so starkly revealed by his question, and Julia remembered her imaginary taunts from the morning, when in her mind she had accused him of being selfish and spoiled and childish … and she felt guilty about having thought so badly of him.

"He would have been fine. I was even thinking that he is old enough now for us to move his crib into his room," she explained. Ducking her head, trying to connect with his eyes, she asked, "You seem relieved?"

He reached up and rubbed his forehead. His wrinkled mouth telling her she had called it right, but his expression showed he was feeling it – it still swirled within him, the shame. His eyes darted away from hers, uneasy with her seeing it.

He looked at William Jr. in the carriage and the memories of feeling so very jealous of the child this morning surged through his mind. He shook his head, so wanting to deny the feelings of guilt that rose up with the memories. William reached into the carriage and lifted William Jr. out. He rested one of his feet on the rung of his stool to create a seat for the infant on his knee, and sat him there. He leaned down and kissed the boy's head, then took a deep breath pulling in his scent. There was no question that he loved this child more than he had ever thought was possible, and his conflicting emotions plagued him so that he felt his body start to tremble. Still unable to look her in the eye, thus keeping his eyes on the baby in his lap, he said, "I am ashamed to admit it, but …" he needed to swallow, he needed to build up the courage, he needed to remind himself that it was Julia with whom he was talking, before he could force it out, where he would never again be able to deny it. "I find it so hard to accept, but I… was … jealous, jealous of my own child." He lifted his chocolate eyes, draped in the darkest, longest, most gorgeous eyelashes she had ever seen in her life, to meet hers. His vulnerability undeniable, he waited for her reaction.

Every bone in her body yearned to rescue him. But she knew better. Julia took a deep breath and said, "Yes." With all her might she kept her hands in her lap, she coached herself to stay relaxed, open, and to wait him out, no matter how difficult the struggle. There was more.

William Jr. wrapped his small fingers around William's tie, and so very quickly, took it into his mouth. With a frown on his father's face, prompting a giggle from his mother, the child firmly held onto his prize.

"Here," Julia said through her chuckling, as she reached into the carriage and pulled out the baby's stuffed rabbit, "Offer him a trade."

William dangled the toy rabbit in front of his son's face, hoping to entice him into giving up the tie. The tiny boy's eyes, so beautiful, brown and big and wrapped in long, dark lashes, for as fate would have it – he had his father's eyes, gazed happily at the rabbit, while his tie-sucking only increased in vigor. "Now listen here, little man," William said, "That is not your tie… But this rabbit…" William bumped the toy playfully against the baby's chest, tempting him to reach out and take it. "This rabbit – now this is yours," the father explained. William Jr. reached for the rabbit, squeezing its eye with one hand and grasping an ear with the other. The tie however, remained stuck in its baby-drool prison.

William glanced at Julia, receiving her laugh instead of her help. He sighed. "Now son," he continued, refocusing on the baby, "This just will not do," he stated. William firmly, but tenderly, worked the tie out of the baby's mouth. Once he had recaptured the soaking-wet tie, he brought William Jr.'s hand, the one holding the rabbit's ear, up to the baby's mouth. Unwilling to take the second-best, William Jr. fussed, threatening to cry. Speaking in an animated voice, bouncing the baby on his knee, William said, "Don't you want that yummy rabbit ear? Oh, it looks so yummy, yummy." The baby smiled and he took the toy's ear into his mouth – tragedy averted. William looked at Julia, beaming with the pride of success.

"Well done, Daddy," she declared.

William kept the bouncing motion with his knee and said, "The Inspector taught me this trick – bouncing the baby on your knee to soothe him." Although William protectively held the back of the baby's head so his neck would not bend backwards with the shifting motion, he sensed that the infant was strong enough now to hold his own head up with the changing balance. " _Hmm,_ " he thought.

Julia watched on. She recognized the expression on her husband's face – he was tinkering with some invention or another in his beautiful mind. She had learned not to interrupt. Later, he would show her, after he worked it all out, and had built the contraption, in this case a baby bouncer. And once again, she would find that he was truly brilliant. But, for now, she ate another piece of peanut brittle, and noticed her breasts starting to feel full, and thought that she had best start heading home soon, for she surely did not want to nurse the baby here at the stationhouse. In a few moments, William's eyes refocused, and she asked him, "Was there anything else … about this morning…"

His expression changed as he focused his attention inward, searching. He took a deep breath, remembering that there was more. Tension erupted within him, starting a background buzzing, a high-pitched ringing in his head. It was accompanied by a sort of dizziness that seemed to make speaking particularly challenging for him. His body felt the emotion again, his jaw clenching tight. Anger … it was definitely anger. And although it disgusted him to admit it, he had been angry with her. So quickly after he recognized it, the emotion was drowned with fear and guilt and shame. His eyes met hers, and they seemed more to plead for help than to provide any answers.

Julia stood from her stool and took William Jr. from William's lap. She placed the baby back in the carriage and then stood in front of her husband. Standing, she was taller than him, and he had to lift his chin to meet her eyes. She reached into his vest pocket and took out his handkerchief. She used it to dry off his drool-soaked tie. She would give him a little push. "I remember I had asked you a question this morning?" she said, her eyes focused on cleaning his tie, thus leaving him the room he would need for his struggle.

He remembered her question. She had asked him if he was angry with her. " _I'm such a coward_ ," he thought, for he had denied it. Somehow, this woman before him ignited something inside of him. It happened now. He found the courage; he would face the deepest, darkest, most shameful truths … And he would do it to be true to her. She deserved the truth. "I was dishonest this morning," William said. "I was angry with you. But I am not now," he continued, wrinkling his mouth with apology. Her blue eyes glanced his way, her expression conveying a calm knowing as she held back her smile. "I was too ashamed of the feeling to admit it. It made no sense, to be angry with you for putting our son's – _**my**_ son's, needs above mine." William sighed deeply. "What kind of father would want his wife to care for him more than his own son?" he asked, the question dripping with self-admonishment.

They had reached it – the crux of the problem – needs. Julia placed his handkerchief back in his pocket and tucked his tie back into his vest. Her magnetic blue eyes held his. He felt her relief … and her love … and oddly, even her admiration for him. And her manner revealed such confidence, in herself and in him – in them. And he knew at that moment, that everything would be alright. This brilliant woman understood it all. He told himself, for the umpteenth time, that the smartest thing he ever did in his life was marry her…

"William," she said, "We all have needs. And I am confident that you and I together, partnered, will meet William Jr.'s needs. You are the best father I could ever imagine… And I have found that motherhood quite suits me, as well. So I am not worried about our taking care of our baby's needs. I know that we will." She paused and waited for him to nod. When he did so, a smile took her face.

She took a deep breath and he braced, for surely there was more to this and she was going to confront it now. "But each of us has needs too," she started to explain, "And it is very dangerous if we don't get our needs met as well." She checked to see that he understood the significance of this point. He looked open, but not as clear as she would like. She needed to explain it better. "We have the responsibilities, as parents, and spouses…" she said, her fingers sliding over his ear and then rubbing into his dark hair, "And lovers," she whispered, " to meet the needs of each of us in our family. For example, you have a need to go to church, so we worked it out and I stay home Sunday mornings instead of working on my charities and care for the baby… And I have a need to work – to BE a doctor, a pathologist, as well as to be a mother, and so we agreed to hire a live-in nanny when I go back to work… If those needs were not met, then there would be negative consequences. We would each be unhappy, troubled, hold grudges, hmm? she asked.

He understood. She was right. She never ceased to amaze him. Hope filled him. They could make this work. His eyes sparkled at her as he nodded.

She continued, "This morning, we discovered that you have a need – one that is much stronger than I think either of us had recognized before this morning, to finish making love once we have gotten fairly far along." Again he nodded, lifting his eyebrows and making his eyes wide, bringing her to giggle, and join him in enthusiastic nodding. "And you also have a need to have sufficient time to get ready for work in the morning without being late," she added.

She returned to her stool and said, "Now, we discovered a few of my needs this morning too. For example, I also have a need to finish making love, though I am now seeing it is likely not as strong as yours… But I also have a need that I don't think you understand. I have a very strong need to nurse our baby, William. It is not just that I feel pain if I put it off, which I do when my breasts get overly swollen, but every cell in my body longs to nurse him – to feel him in my arms, his skin touching mine… To look into his beautiful, vulnerable, trusting eyes, and the feeling when he suckles… It's like nothing I have ever felt before."

He held firmly to her eyes and nodded, making sure she saw that he understood.

Julia decided to bring up a more troubling need. "I am also finding that I am desperate for adult interactions… Which is why I wanted to attend the Montenegro's dinner party – and I so appreciated your agreeing to go despite the fact that I am pretty sure you do not want to go, and you were in such a very sour mood…" She reached up again and cupped his cheek. He took a deep breath – grateful that he had been wise enough to agree to go to the party. Julia's face took on a mischievous grin and she added, leaning close to him and giving in to the urge to stroke his tie. She whispered, "And I so love to see you in tux… I remember the sight of you at alter William. You looked so handsome, gorgeous, I lost my breath and I nearly lost my knees…" Her fingers traced his jaw, then slid down his neck to trace his collar. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

She stepped back, reclaiming her seat. She was changing the subject, her body language redrawing his attention. "I have been thinking about ways to get all of these needs met, and I have a suggestion,' she began, "But I think you will instinctively say no, so I ask that you don't answer until later tonight after you have had time to think about it." She looked to him, waiting for him to agree. He nodded and she continued, "I think we should hire a live in nanny, _**now**_ , instead of waiting until I go back to work in two or three months."

Oh, unfortunately she saw what she expected. He was resistant to the idea. "William," she warned, "Don't respond yet," she stated, her eyebrow raised. "Let me just say, a nanny could help with the baby in the morning, so we would still have time to…" she took a deep breath. She wanted him to know how important their lovemaking was to her too. She did not want to give it up either. "So we could still have time to sleep, and to make love, and get ready ourselves in the morning," she explained. "And one more thing to consider," she wanted to add to her argument, "William Jr. would become familiar with her, comfortable with her … And then we could go out, and I could get the stimulation I need from adult interactions, and go shopping, or have some time to myself, and I could get those needs met too. So, I encourage you to consider it … And we'll talk about it tonight?"

Receiving his nod, she stood, signaling that it was a good time for her to go. "Walk me to the cab?" she asked, offering him her arm. When he helped her step up into the cab, baby-carriage already loaded, handing up their sleeping infant to settle into her arms, she whispered, leaning close to his ear, her breath sinking into him, "Get home early enough before dinner, husband, and I will make up for this morning."

The thrill of the thought of being wrapped around her, rhythmically moving deeper and deeper into her, sent a bolt to his groin. "Count on it, Mrs. Murdoch … Please," he whispered in reply. They shared a smile and he turned and headed back to the stationhouse. He was incredibly happy, but there had been quite a bit of tension as well. He blew out a strong burst of air, through pursed lips, trying to let off some of the steam. He reminded himself that he would have to get quite a bit of work done in order to leave on time. There was no lack of motivation. He picked up the pace.

Back at home, Julia spent every spare moment for the rest of the afternoon entertaining ideas to make their lovemaking special once William got home. She was confident that the baby would be sleeping because she routinely nursed him and put him down to sleep at 4:30 PM and did not wake him again until 6:20 PM. As long as William got home by 5:30, she was sure they would have enough time.

As for her devious planning, she thought it best to tease William mercilessly, to bring him right to the edge of his self-control before giving him what he wanted. With a smile, she imagined wearing the red leather sexy outfit she had used on his birthday. She had hidden in their still under construction house, and sexually teased him ruthlessly, modeling their "sex play," after a dream he had about her interrogating him about his romantic interests in Mrs. Jones. The outfit consisted of a corset and short, short bloomers. She would put it on under her dress for William to discover as he undressed her. Gratefully, she had lost weight recovering in hospital from the transverse Cesarean section and had managed to stay relatively thin since then.

Julia had thought to put on William's vest with his badge and play at arresting him and interrogating him again, but decided against it. It was still too close to his traumatic experience from when he was undercover on a recent case, dressed as a hobo, and he encountered an abusive American policeman – named "Flannel Bull," who had tried to have his way with William. The horrible man had eventually chosen another victim, and William's guilt for not saving the boy, and disgust and helplessness were all still quite raw. Thus, she thought it best to avoid playing at being an overpowering abusive copper for a while.

Then she remembered Ishinpō! She had used reverse Ishinpō when helping him heal from the devastation and hopelessness he felt returning from the meat-packing case, but they had had to keep the sexual nature out of it then, because she was eight-months pregnant at the time. Her mind wandered and she remembered that it was the very next day that she went into labor and William delivered their child. She was concerned that they would not really have enough time for a full Ishinpō experience, whether it was reversed or not. " _How can I use Ishinpō? I'm sure he would love it_ ," she wondered to herself. A delightful memory played in her mind, of the first time he had used Ishinpō with her – or at least used it specifically by name, for her husband had used the ideas in the ancient Chinese lovemaking philosophy since the first night they were married, actually longer – since the night they spent together in her father's lake-house after he had died. Her mind flashed the memory of her lying on her stomach naked on the "picnic blanket" in their bedroom, looking through William's Ishinpō book at the pictures of the different lovemaking positions. William had whispered to her to choose one she wanted to try. Such a thrill ran through her veins with the lovely memory. She decided to have the Ishinpō book out on her vanity. She could preselect a few pages and bookmark the ones with exciting positions. She would let him select their position tonight. It sounded fun.

She searched around in their bedroom until she found the book. As she looked through the pictures, she found one she was sure would be William's subconscious choice. She had, for as long as she could remember, noticed William sneaking peeks at her derriere. One of the positions that caused a twitch in her womb showed a woman bent over a table, her rear-end exposed to the world, and a man bent over her, penetrating her from behind. The image stirred Julia wildly, and even though she was certain it would have the same effect on William, she figured he would never admit to such an outrageous fantasy, and therefore would not choose this position. Perhaps his groin would give him away, she thought…

The next idea that sparked in her mind was to play a sort of strip poker game with him. She would tell him the rule was they could each remove ONE piece of clothing from the other, but only after ONE piece of clothing had been removed from them. She counted up William's clothes – jacket, vest, tie, shirt, undershirt, did he have a belt on?, trousers, underwear – and don't forget socks and shoes. That's 7-8 pieces of clothing. She needed to have seven things on for him to remove – not counting the red leather corset and sexy bloomers, which would stay on until right before they made love.

She planned her outfit and dressed. She also set up their bedroom, having asked Eloise to help her move the baby's crib to William Jr.'s bedroom. She made their bedroom as romantic as possible, setting out a "picnic blanket," in case he chose the traditional face-to-face position from the Ishinpō book, and candles. She was ready. Then she heard the door downstairs.

A quick glance at the clock and her heart rushed. He had hurried home, she remembered he had to ride his bicycle, and it was only 5:20 PM. He left work at exactly 5:00 PM – he was excited and anticipating her promise of making up for the morning. Love and lust surged through her. She straightened her skirt, took a deep breath and headed downstairs to greet him.

He hung his hat, removed his coat and was hanging it up when he heard her on the stairs. His eyes shifted just in time to catch sight of her as she rounded the corner up on the stairs. She hesitated, temporarily frozen when their eyes met. Although their positions were reversed, she at the top of the stairs rather than him, the sight of her stole his breath – and, as he took a big breath in an attempt to survive the immediate spinning in his brain, a flash of memory played before his mind's eye. It was a memory from a much sadder time. He had a broken heart. She was engaged to Dr. Darcy Garland. She had chosen another – one more suited to her station in life. She no longer loved him… And she stood, a complete surprise, at the bottom of the stairs in the Jenkins' home, interrupting his investigation, sending him once again into a whirlwind of despair with her presence. My God, he still loved her, and the pain of it disabled him so. William cleared his throat, working to push the pain of the memory away. _**She was his now**_. "Doctor," he greeted.

"Welcome home detective," she replied. She descended down the stairs and quickly stepped intimately close to him. (Eloise, in the kitchen, had been alerted to the detective's arrival, and found herself eavesdropping. It was obvious to her that the couple had had an argument this morning, and then the doctor had gone to see him, returning with flowers, and there were such preparations for his arrival at the end of the day – and now he was home much earlier than usual. The older woman smiled to herself as she worked preparing their dinner. She so cared for the two of them, and her heart sang, for she knew what was about to happen, and it made her immensely happy).

Julia kissed her husband, their lips only briefly parting before he demanded more, pulling her into a much deeper kiss. _**Oh my God, the man could kiss!**_ Her body responded immediately, melting in his arms. The kiss broke off, each needing to catch their breath and regain a modicum of control, and she teased him, "You seem a bit out of breath, William. Did you peddle faster than usual?"

His smile nearly floored her, his beautiful eyes twinkling so, "I did," he replied.

"Well then," she answered, "Shall we go upstairs," she invited, offering him her arm.

Once she closed the bedroom door behind them, and leaned back against it, she noticed her husband's quick mind assessing the scene. He would observe the mood she had set – clearly romantic. He would wonder where the baby's crib was. She answered his question before he could ask it, "Eloise helped me move the baby's crib into his room. It seemed time."

He turned to face her, then stepped closer to her, igniting the fire within her as he did so. His fingers slid into the bun in her hair, titillatingly setting her jaw, cheek, neck, and ear alight as her skin reacted to his touch on its route. The power of this feeling never failed to startle her, already her knees were weak, and her womb was so deliciously tight, like a sponge having the liquid squeezed out of it, she felt herself growing wet with need for him. She would need to take control of her fall if she were to enact her plan, and so, as his lips touched hers, she fought it, pushing him away.

"Now detective," she said, her voice lusciously raspy, "Not so fast."

Oh how his groin burst with heat from her demand! He stepped back, giving her control.

"Let me set the ground rules," she stated. "I will remove one piece of clothing from you – then you remove one piece of clothing from me…" William swallowed, his beautiful brown eyes locked to hers, and he nodded in agreement. Slowly, she slid his jacket off of his shoulders, letting her fingers record the bulge of his deltoid muscles before the fabric swooshed down to the floor. Picturing the sight of his jacket at their feet, she remembered their shoes, and said, "Oh, I forgot. Let's take care of our shoes first," she requested, pushing him back, providing the needed space. They each removed their shoes, he his socks and her her stockings.

Demonstrating he understood the rules of their game, he quickly stepped close again and traced the collar of her blue jacket, so very enticing, as his fingers slid along the border, riding the upward curve of her breast, before he pulled the cloth back over her shoulder. He stepped behind her to completely remove her jacket, letting it also drop to the floor. Still behind her, she felt his breath on her neck, then his lips, and his velvety tongue and a gentle scraping of his teeth – and oh my God, his hands slid up her rib cage and cupped her breasts, and she felt gravity shift and dizziness swirled in her brain.

"Am I breaking the rules," his beautiful voice asked, his warm breath sliding into her ear.

He was not, but she found words missing with which to respond. Stepping out of his embrace, she turned to face him. The increased distance broke the spell, and she responded, her eyes meeting his, "No, you are not, as long as you are the next one to have a piece of clothing removed …It is my turn." Her fingers found the top button on his vest, before she pulled her eyes away from his. She unbuttoned it, then the others. Both of her hands slipped under his vest and she soaked in the feeling of his well-defined muscles under the fabric of his shirt as her hands moved up his chest, then out over his shoulders, catching hold of his suspenders and pushing both the vest and the straps down his arms, to let the vest slip off of him and hit the floor. She felt his breathing change, so strong each burst of air, and hot. His increasing arousal having a domino-effect on hers, "Mm," she said, "So lovely." She reached for his tie, but he stopped her. He was right, it was his turn.

"Mrs. Murdoch," he scolded. She felt his hand take her wrist. He brought it between them, then brought her wrist to his lips. His eyes never left hers as he kissed the inside of her palm, and his fingers unbuttoned the bottom of her sleeve. She unbuttoned the other sleeve. They both basked in the pause, before he began to unbutton her shirt. It was tight, and each button seemed to "pop" as it was released, exposing more and more of her as he moved down. Before he completely removed her blouse, he fondled her breasts, focusing on the bulged up flesh above the hem of her corset, through the thin fabric of her bodice. It flickered through her mind, that she hoped he would not yet discover that she was wearing the voluptuous red leather corset underneath it all.

William's urges grew. " _So beautiful. This woman is so beautiful_ ," he thought. He desired to taste her flesh, but he controlled his need to bury his face in her bosom. He would wait. His mouth took her neck however, invoking a moan from her – a moan that sent a jolt of electricity to his groin and surged a wave outwards from his core, weakening his knees and flooding his brain with an intoxicating wooziness. He needed to pull back from the height that threatened his self-discipline. He let go of her. "Your turn," he managed to say.

Julia shook off her own delightful lightheadedness. It was time for the tie! She so loved the tie! Her hot, lusty breath rippled down his neck as she loosened the knot. Tie, complete with baby-drool stain, removed, she hurriedly began to undo his top button on his shirt…

Roughly, his hand grabbed hers, stopping her. Surprised, her blue eyes rushed to his. "Behave yourself, Mrs. Murdoch," he scolded.

"Sorry," she agreed. She turned around, offering him the back of her neck. Such a delicious tingle on her skin as his fingers delicately untied her silk choker from her neck. Then his mouth on her ear, he sucked on her earlobe and his breath flowed down her neck and her shoulder. Her breath caught, and she rewarded him with a gasp as his hands took her waist and then climbed up her body to once again capture her breasts. From behind, he stepped even closer to her, pressing his body against hers as he pulled her in. He was growing quite hungry for her. His mouth released her ear and demanded more of her flesh. She felt his teeth and his soft, soft tongue on her jaw, and she turned to bring her mouth to his, and his strong muscles enveloped her as he turned her around and pulled her to him, and his tongue slipped into her mouth, and her knees gave way, and he held her even tighter, saving her form her fall. He pushed deeper into her, with such a familiar rhythm, she was beyond charmed.

She pulled back and said, "Your shirt, detective," her voice squeaking too much to be a convincing command.

William's impatience obvious, he undid the buttons on his own shirt quite rapidly, and tossed it to the floor. As Julia's hands tried to take possession of his chest through the fabric of his undershirt, he reached around behind her, expertly unclasping and unbuttoning her skirt. The fact that the garment did not slide immediately to the floor aroused him even more as it was the resistance offered by the lovely outward curve of her buttocks that blocked its descent. He would have to help the skirt along. He tucked his hands under the cloth to guide it down, encouraging it to glide over her firm, yet moldable cheeks, making sure to find the deep crevice between the two orbs with his fingers through the satiny fabric of her bloomers and the thicker crease in the red leather boomers hiding underneath. So close to the part of her he most desired, he released a moan, desperation muting it into almost a whimper.

Longing for his lust, hearing him weaken, she felt gravity shift and urgently wrapped her arms around his neck in order to remain upright.

He reached down, grabbed her by her thighs, lifted her out of the skirt encircling her ankles and up onto his hips, spun her around and backed her into the door. Oh my God, he was losing control. His tongue drove deeper and deeper into her, and she felt his body pinning her to the door. Like a strong wind from an incoming thunderstorm, there was a wild rush. Suddenly, he let her drop as he stepped back and her feet discovered the floor. So quickly his undershirt was pulled off over his head… Then he twirled her around, pressed her chest into the door, lifted her arms up over her head and frantically undid her corset, discovering that under her chemise she had on the extra red leather corset. She could not see it, but he lifted a questioning eyebrow at her as he charged, "Cheating, doctor?"

William would follow her rules, but he was desperate to feel her skin, his hands rough and hurriedly reached under the bottom of her chemise to climb up and seize her through the leather. The sexy garment was tight, and there was such a luscious feel of her body through the unfamiliar material. He cupped her breasts from behind her, then, while holding her left breast firmly in his left hand, he slipped the fingers of his right hand through the front laces of the red leather, skin-tight corset, lapping up the feel of her silky skin. Weakening into another moan as his fingertips pinched her excited, erect nipple, and he squelched the volume of the moan by taking her neck in his mouth and deeply sucked her in, and he squished his hands together, marveling at the way her doughy flesh rippled and bulged upwards between the fingers of his grip.

Julia was coming undone, grateful for the solid support of the door in front of her. She nearly feinted away in a swoon when William thrust up into her from behind. Through the layers of fabric still between them, she felt the power of his manly reach, rigidly present, pressing perfectly aligned between the cheeks of her buttocks. " _Hard, so hard_ ," she thought, wishing for the fulfillment of his promise, she tried feverishly to regain control. Just then he stepped back. She felt herself heaving, listening. She turned around, curious, wondering.

It was his belt. He was taking off his belt – she had forgotten about his belt.

Out of breath, beautifully bare-chested, he stood before her. An animalistic need surged between them. His jaw locked, eyes intense with furious lust. He rushed forward, grabbed for her bloomers, pulling them down, thinking he was opening his way – unknowing that he was yet to be foiled by her secret red leather bloomers…

Hoping to delay his discovery, she pushed him away. She reached down to grab hold of the hem at the bottom of her chemise and pulled it over her head.

He found her to be breathtaking, stunning, so much so that he was forced to swallow at the exquisite sight of her, naked albeit for her sensual red leather outfit. William resisted the torrents of lust that pumped and throbbed through him. Keen and hastened by the torture of holding off, he hurriedly removed both his trousers and his underwear in one swoop. Next were her deviously-added, but magnificently delicious, spicy barriers, but before he could step towards her to rip the erotic garment off of her, he halted, struck by her wide dark eyes which were transfixed on his groin. He took a deep breath, recognizing that, yes, he was very aroused. He savored the satisfaction of her greedy attraction to his riled state. He waited, for her to regain control of herself… Her eyes met his… _My God she was beautiful._

"You are quite ready, husband," she squeaked out.

A bold nod and then he asked, "And you?"

The look of him, crushed and tremendous, thrilled her through and through. She stepped close to him, their eyes locked. Her voice sultry, she said, "I believe you will find you have done a very good job of _**wetting**_ my appetite as well, husband." She took his hand and brought it to the back of her thigh, just under the bottom of the red leather short bloomers. Pleased to feel his hand firm and solid against her flesh, she lifted her knee, wrapped her leg around him, offering a pathway for his fingers to slide under the leather. Her mouth took his as she felt him continue the exploration, finding her slippery opening stashed away under the leather. His fingers slipped with increasing speed up into her, access quickly gained because of her roused state. She moaned into his mouth, inviting him to take more.

William located the top of her red short bloomers, and put some pressure onto them, lowering them. Alarm surged through her. " _Not yet_ ," she thought, " _Stop him, not yet!"_ She stepped back suddenly. "Have a…" she scratched out, trying to gain control of herself, finding she did not have the ability to speak. She cleared her throat and stepped back even further. She pushed out her words, somewhat relieved at her ability to take control, "Have a seat, detective," she said, directing him to the chair by her vanity.

William enjoyed her taking control, and willingly did as she instructed. Every bone in his body hoped she would remove the bloomers and sit facing him in his lap. _My God he wanted her!_ He swallowed, and waited and watched as she stepped closer to him, then swung a leg over him and settled in his lap. So strongly his erection rose up into her, blocked only by the leather between them.

"I believe it is my turn," William stated, having to look up at her now that she sat on his lap. Having been denied access to her bottoms, he deliberately pinched the delicate bow at the apex of her top, pulling it past its point of most tension, it responding with a soft snap, releasing the taught containment of her breasts, immediately widening the view of her creamy skin. His breath puffed heatedly over her, like a locomotive gaining steam. One after the other, the laces were nicked away by William's adept fingers, his eyes glowing blacker and blacker, hungered more with each 'swoosh' of the strings. The final string gone, he paused, soaking in the view of her groin-triggering cleavage, finding the flipping and swimming in his brain to be more than he was sure he could bear.

It was Julia who removed the rest of the garment, now nothing but air keeping her mouth-watering flesh from his reach. Firmly, she took each of his wrists and placed his hands down on the tops of her thighs. Her eyes demanded he obey. His throat was so dry. And she slid her fingers over each of his ears, tangling them deeper and deeper into his black hair. She sat up taller, drawing his eyes down to her breasts. So heavenly, his gasp for air, as she pulled his head forward to bring his face into her bosom. Marshmallow softness, deliciously smothering around him, her scent flooded his deepest being. His mouth opened, head turned to the side – " _In!_ " he thought, " _She had to be inside of him_ ," as he drank as much of her into his mouth as he could. " _Oh my God,_ " her moan crushed him, sending his mouth into a frenzy of wild sucks, slurps and kisses.

Julia wondered if he could feel her abandoned wetness through the leather between them. Her breathing was rapid and strong… Her hot breath surging out of flared nostrils, rhythmically, harmoniously, answered by his. She saw now the problem with her plan – she had not anticipated how ravenously they would each lust for the other. She wondered if she would be able to wait to carry the plot out to its entirety – and, with him already so … hard, how would she be able to tell which Ishinpō position he most desired? .

"William," she started, so breathless, trying to lift his head out of her sweetness, forcing herself to get control of her own yearning. She turned to let her eyes focus on the Ishinpō book next to them on her vanity. "I pre-selected a few pictures… from your book. Some we have tried already, some we have not…" She looked back at him – he had found the book. His expression electrified her. He looked angry, but she knew the look – he was fighting his urges. He was very excited. It was turning out to be a marvelous plan.

She continued explaining, "You will get to choose the position we use. As I show you each picture, imagine you and I doing what it shows … I'll tell you where we will be. You can remove the rest of my clothing once you have chosen… But…" And for this point she placed her fingers under his chin, and brought his eyes to hers. "But, the way you will tell me which position you truly – _**subconsciously**_ – want, will be by the _**reaction I feel underneath me**_ … from …" Her eyes dropped down to the area where his groin and her red leather bloomers connected. She giggled, "Think of it like a meter stick. I will use the power of your reaction to gage which position most stimulates you." Her glee was palpable.

Conflict stirred inside of him. Leave it to his wife – probably the only woman in the world who was both a medical doctor AND a psychiatrist, to come up with such an idea. It felt a bit like when he was hooked up to his own invention over a decade ago – his truthilizing pneumograph, feeling such duress, so vulnerable and exposed, when Higgins called him out for being in love with her, and the blue liquid shot upward, revealing his innermost secrets. He wasn't sure if he hoped she did, or if he hoped she didn't, include the picture he knew most aroused him – the one that had the woman bent over a table and the man taking her from behind.

Julia noticed him swallow. To her that meant he was eager to begin. "Ready?" she asked.

His delicious chocolate-colored eyes held hers as he nodded and then he brought his gaze to her hand on the Ishinpō book on the vanity.

The first picture showed a woman with her back against the wall. Her legs were wrapped around the waist of the man standing facing her.

"We would do this against the wall over by the bathroom," she said.

William glanced in that direction and let himself picture them making love there. He felt it – he knew that she felt it too – he reacted, growing stronger against her underside. He blushed, sending Julia's heart into a twirl, and he looked her in the eye, then wrinkled a corner of his mouth. She couldn't help but giggle. He took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the book.

Julia wondered if he could get any more erect. She was worried that she wouldn't be able to tell his preference, but she would sure have fun trying, she thought. She turned to the next page she had earmarked. This picture showed the most common position that she and William used to make love. A woman lay on her back on a bed and her mate lay on top of her facing her.

"We would do this on the picnic blanket," she said. She turned and looked down at the blanket she had set out on the floor. "You have to imagine us there, William," she advised.

William let himself imagine himself on top of Julia, thrusting deeper and deeper into her. Memory piped in, and he imagined her gasping out and filling the humid air surrounding them with her luscious moans. He almost laughed at himself as he felt his groin grow and shove harder against her. He cleared his throat and said, "That would be lovely."

Julia was delighted, but she knew the best was yet to come. "You haven't seen all of the choices yet," she reminded him.

There was something about the way she said it… His heart began to race as he turned his eyes back to the Ishinpō book. Anticipation threatened to burst him open… He recognized the picture immediately! " _Oh my God, that's the one_!" the thought barely having time to rip through his brain before his groin jumped upward.

" _Oh my!"_ Julia's triumph and jubilation flooded through her. The book lay open to the page with the woman bent over the table and her lover taking her from behind.

William's mind already was picturing himself and Julia doing _**that**_ – and MY GOD, the pure lust of it sent him over the brink.

His eyes still on the picture in the book, he demanded, voice dry and rugged, " _ **WHERE?**_ "

She felt him grip her tight and rise, standing up, lifting her with him. He had made his choice. The last thing she had control over was where they would do it. She wrapped her legs around him, her womb taught with frantic need. Her mind flooded and swam so with heavenly dizziness that she felt challenged to answer him. She pictured the two of them writhing and pumping in the chosen position on the bathroom counter, next to the sink, and she tried desperately to find the words to tell him where to go.

She had to swallow for her vocal cords to produce a sound, "Bathroom," she said, her voice so desiccated with desire it barely registered above a whisper.

He quickly carried her into the bathroom and released her, letting her feet touch the ground. Julia turned to face the edge of countertop, and then she bent forward, placing her stomach and breasts on the cold, hard surface.

In all his life he had never seen anything as exciting as the sight of her bent over, helpless, the luscious curves of her swollen, cream-colored buttocks peeking out from under the red leather. " _Easy William_ ," he told himself. His heart pounded in his chest, his head spiraled and spun. Julia panted so desperately, the up and down heaving nearly drove him over the edge. He adjusted his position to stand behind her. Air surged out of his nostrils as he reached up to the waistband of the sexy red leather bloomers. The exquisite swimming of his brain felt that it might cause him to fall over, swirling and spinning so deep inside of his temples, as he slowly pulled the bloomers down to expose her round, supple derriere. The surrendered garment pooled on the floor around her feet.

Julia pressed herself tighter around the curve of the edge of the countertop. Her hunger for him, her wild need to feel him push into her, to drive deeper and deeper into her, tortured her womb. It was his hands she felt first, down low on the backs of her thighs, sliding upwards, building the tension as they moved closer and closer to her one most desperate place. She released a gasp as he pushed against the inside of her thighs, spreading them farther apart. Her brain flipped over, dark, hot dizziness all around.

William's heart nearly leapt out of his chest as a bolt of lightning tore directly to his groin. Lustrous pink and red skin framed in plush kinky hairs, previously so well-hidden, now bared and exposed between her malleable, moldable fleshy orbs, shining and shimmering as its wetness reflected the candlelight that streamed dimly into their secret hidden corner, instantly stirred and swelled his groin. Dynamite exploded to the one spot, racing down the fuse in the deepest center of his body, to the endpoint where he so longed to touch her deep, deep inside.

So rough – his fingers roughly kneaded her plump, ample cheeks, to travel up her back, under her breasts, to passionately squeeze and treasure them. The sublime heat of his body quickly covered her as he bent over her. His breath surged into her ear. _"It was coming… he was going to…"_ Julia grabbed hold of the faucet handle with one hand hoping the gadget would be strong enough withstand the merciless strain she would put it through with her scrumptious agony.

William's blood raced through his veins. He would take her now. His hands slid under her armpits to clamp onto her shoulders. He squeezed her so urgently she would likely have his fingermarks left on her skin. His mouth took her earlobe, sucking it in, surrounding it in hot wetness. Down lower, where Julia's body screamed for him, his tip pressed against her secret skin, and he tilted his pelvis to slide downward… And then, _**so slippery, so wet, so warm, so delicious, so soft**_ – she yielded to him as he pushed in, breaching her. His moan of pleasure wrenched her, Julia's back surged into an arch as he squeezed further, and further, and further, up into her. "My God, you feel good," his lusty voice scorched into her brain, and burned down her secret inner pathways to demolish her womb.

His breath pounded and thundered into her ear, and down her jaw, and her neck – his hot surging breath, steamed, and steamed, and steamed her, strong and fierce, like a bull wild with rage. He entirely overpowered her, rendering her defenseless and weak underneath him, as he drove deeper and deeper into her, storming closer and closer to the one perfect spot so very deep inside of her that it caused her ears to ring as he approached it. "Harder William!" she begged. "Please William – harder," her voice pleaded, driving him to lose his mind.

He completely let go. He pounded into her with all of his might, with every ounce of strength he had. With each forceful thrust his hands pulled her body to him by her shoulders, deepening his penetration, potently hammering into her again and again. " _Closer! More!"_ he demanded of himself.

His grunts barreled over her ear. He pushed her ferociously nearer and nearer to the edge, dangling her over the endless abyss, the vertigo of the colossal height seizing her ability to breathe. Julia's fingers clamped tighter and tighter around the cold metal of the faucet handle. Faster, faster, their rhythm grew. She sensed the vast plummet, the untamed soar, coming. "Everything William!" she demanded, gasping and feral, "Give me everything!"

" _Impossible_ ," she thought as he thrust into her with even greater force, carnal and overwhelming. And her inner world turned into a bright, gleaming purple whirlwind with the eruption – so hot and expansive. William's moan flooded through her soul. My God, she was so very high as her cascade began. Ripples and ripples of delicious waves flowed out from her center, searing every cell in her body, rocking each and every atom of her being.

William nearly evaporated with the euphoria of the unearthed, deep, deep feelings that now tumbled and rushed through him. Oh, how he wished the lusciousness of being inside of her would never end. He pumped, and pumped once more, begging for the rumbling, rupturous sensations to go on and on. He pumped again, basking in the lingering of it.

Then, muscles loose, still and drained, heads spinning, hearts beating wildly, pounding so that the sound clouded the ears, breaths slowing, hot and heavy, they lay together, bent, him over her, sunk and imprinted into the bathroom countertop. Julia's fingers unclenched, releasing their emergency handle. They were each completely spent, so exhausted that their bodies melted and melded together. For this brief tick of time, there were no boundaries between them. All defenses removed, they were molded into one.

William cloaked her, weighing heavy, plunged and sunk deep under her skin. Densely, he kissed and sucked on her softened, pliable face underneath him, further taking her in, fusing with her to a shared, deepest core. Oh, how he cherished her with all his heart, and all his soul, and all of his body. Where Julia had been grateful for the wind that had blown them to their remarkable union, William thanked God.

"You are so very, very, precious to me Julia," he told her.

She started to cry, and he turned them both and slid down to sit on the floor with his back resting against the counter, pulling her weak, soft, weeping body down with him, placing her in his lap. He held her and comforted her as she sat, straddling him with her knees bent on each side of him, her chest against his, her face tucked into his neck. "Shh," he tenderly whispered to her. "Quiet now… Shh. I know, I know – the feelings are intense and overwhelming," he comforted, "We had an awful fight … And I was mad at you, and it was scary, and you were stuck between the needs of your husband and your son and yourself… And you wanted me so badly, for so long that it hurt and withstanding it, and fighting for the magic of our touch, took all of the energy you had … and you love me so much …. And you know I love you so much … and we have so much to lose that it frightens you. I know… Breathe, let it go."

Her voice, peppered with sniffles, crawled out of its buried place on his shoulder, "How do you know?" she asked.

Lovingly, he kissed her ear, stroked her golden hair rippled with curls, and answered, "Because I feel the same."

"Then why aren't you crying?" she questioned, lifting her head, breathing in the cooler air with the distance.

William chuckled. "You have a good point, doctor," he replied.

Through her quieting tears she said, "William, we must never give this up… Not ever. Our romance, our love and our lovemaking … and our passion, make life worth living."

"Agreed," he said with a gentle kiss to her ear. "That and our son, hmm?" he added.

She nodded. "Yes," she agreed, "And the miracle of our having a son – a child made out of that love, part you, and part me." He held her, rocking her slowly and softly until her tears had subsided.

Becoming aware of time and space, William said, "Perhaps it is time to wake up the baby, hmm? Give him his milk?" he suggested.

She nodded and stood, offering her lover a hand. They stood and he took her in his arms once more. "Did you like it?" she asked. William laughed, prompting her to smile. "The subconscious sure is a powerful thing," she added.

"Julia," William corrected, "These sexual wishes were _**not**_ tucked away deep inside my subconscious."

"William Murdoch, you are telling me you were completely conscious of your desire to have me like ... That?

"Yes completely," he insisted.

She ducked her head below his gaze and scowled up at him. "William," she confronted, "I know you take peeks … That you sneak glimpses of my – posterior end."

William smiled and replied, "Much more than you know." He shook his head and chuckled. "The first time I moved over, for a better view, clearly very conscious of my urge to see your "posterior end," was when you were called to the murder scene of a prostitute at Ettie Weston's Music Academy. Do you remember?" he asked.

Julia was fighting the urge to drop her jaw and stand there, shocked, mouth agape. " _This was William Murdoch talking after all_ ," her rational brain argued. She remembered the case he was referring to. She had found herself feeling jealous of what she saw as his intimacy with the Madame of the establishment, so much so that it prompted her to goad him about it later. "I remember," she said.

William elaborated, "You showed up in a very pretty dress. It threatened my ability to remain professional. The dress was grey, low-cut and revealing." William's eyes dropped down to Julia's breasts. She was much more beautiful than he had imagined. He went on, noting that she seemed to be intrigued by the detailed memory he had of the occasion, "You told me you were on a date – which boiled jealousy through me, I must admit – supposedly with a rather boring accountant."

William's smile at her managed to melt her insides. She felt a rekindling as he took one of her curls in his fingers and played affectionately with it. She reached a hand up to assess the state of her hair, suddenly aware that it had likely been mussed about with all their passion.

William continued, "You placed a knee on the bed and leaned over to examine the garrotted neck of the victim. You verbalized your medical report, not having any idea that I stepped behind you, even backed up to take in the most of the scrumptious view possible in the small room. The magnificent sight of you in that position – it sent desire through me like I'd never known…" He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. He bowed to her and said, "It was the reason I had to ask you to dinner – try to get closer to you despite my doubts. It was the catalyst for that picnic, and the absinthe, and our first kiss – our _almost_ first making love."

Julia snorted in disbelief, shaking her head. "William Henry Murdoch, I do not believe it. Besides, just because you were aware of enjoying the stimulation of looking at my backside, does not mean that you consciously knew you wanted to make love to me … from that side."

A frown developed on his face, quickly followed by a sly grin. He seemed to taunt, "So you don't believe I was conscious of that particular desire of mine?"

Julia placed her hands on her hips – a sure sign of the stubbornness with which she was going to hold her point, and said, "I do not."

William smiled mischievously, stepped back from her and said, "Be prepared to admit you were wrong, doctor." He walked over to his dresser, feeling her eyes following him intently. Oh, he knew he had her! He found his journal in a drawer, quickly turned through the pages, hesitated to read a few words, then turned further back, until he found what he was looking for. Suspecting she would be more likely to admit her defeat if she saw the words he had written so many years ago for herself, he handed her the journal.

Julia clamped her lips together, showing her doubt. She gave him a threatening stare – she was certain he would not reveal a conscious desire to take her _**bent over, from behind**_ , as they had just so passionately and wildly enjoyed – not her buttoned-down detective. She focused on his writing, noticing as she often did how neat it was for a man's:

 **Things had been so professional, so under control. Julia gave me her report, the arm the dog dropped at the Eugenics Society meeting was that of a non-laborer because it lacked callouses. The killer likely knew his way around a scalpel, etc. Then,** _ **wham**_ **, things changed so quickly...**

(Julia's mind was racing. She remembered this very clearly. Although she didn't remember exactly what was said, or who had said it, she remembered it had to do with mating horses – and she remembered being very, very aroused – much more so than she was accustomed to being during their early flirtations, save from the time with the picnic and the absinthe).

" **It's intriguing, the notion of bettering the human race," she had said. I wasn't sure I wanted to tell her how aversive I found the idea of selectively breeding people. I found I stuck my foot in it, not realizing that I wished I hadn't until it was much too late. I said something like that I saw eugenics as being like a prize stallion covering and breeding a prize mare. And then, and I really don't know why, but … I imagined myself as the stallion and Julia as the mare. If I were wise, I would have stopped myself there, but I saw something in her eyes, like that she was envisioning the same thing. Well, it dizzied my brain and shot straight down to my groin like a firework, exploding my senses into fancified swellings and eruptions of colors, and sparks, and smells and sounds that I had never experienced before. I felt entranced by the look of her – by our shared pleasure in the double entendre. Such a big mistake to step closer to her when I was already so aroused. But every cell in my body wanted to investigate the feeling … to explore her in this new light of stimulation, so I moved closer to her and let her know that I found the idea, of such a mating, to be intriguing. Her arms were around my neck, and her eyes were so mesmerizing. And it was too late, but I tried to pull back, stating that the whole adventure I was proposing was purely theoretical. Then she tilted her head. She was inviting a kiss. She wanted to … Oh my God, I thought she wanted to, and I let myself imagine it – her turned around bent over the desk – the desk that was right there! – And me behind her… and then inside of her … and then thrusting wildly and passionately into her, with such a hungry, demanding rhythm. And I swelled so big in my trousers. I watched her mouth move, she was talking, but it only triggered my need to be inside of her more, definitely making things worse. She was agreeing with me – about animal husbandry and it being natural, I think. And I decided, right there and then, that I had best get out or I would lose control and grab her and kiss her so hard she couldn't push me away, and I would turn her around and bend her over her desk, and pull up her skirts, and pull down her bloomers, and unleash my … And it was at that point in the fantasy that I regained control, and so I gave her a small kiss, and said I had to be off. Like the few times in my life that I had overindulged in alcohol, I had to concentrate so very hard on appearing to walk normally as I Ieft, in this case, despite the humungous tight bulge in my pants. At first I so believed I left her as hungry for me as I was for her, but now I feel I have tricked myself into seeing what I wanted to see. I will have to keep such fantasies in check. Julia deserves much better.**

Julia found the entry fascinating. As she read it her memories of the time sharpened, and his first thoughts about her reaction were definitely correct. She closed his journal and put it back in his drawer.

He had waited, his buttocks resting on her vanity, arms crossed. He looked so darn cocky. Whenever he exhibited such confidence it tended to have an aphrodisiac effect on her. She reminded herself about it being time to nurse the baby, the disappointment bringing her to a sigh. She would have to concede to his being correct about his sexual desires being conscious, at least in this case.

"Alright. I stand corrected. I accept that your equine-like sexual desires are, and always have been, conscious," she admitted, hoping to tease him with the, "equine-like," description. Then a Mona Lisa smile crept up at the corners of her mouth as she thought, " _Perhaps it was myself all along who had kept such desires safely packed away in my subconscious._ " He pushed away from his perch on her vanity, and took her in his arms. " _Can he tell what I'm thinking?"_ she wondered briefly. She thought so. Too much of a gentleman, he let it go and changed the subject…

"While you nurse William Jr., I will clean up in here," he said, followed by a kiss so similar in intensity and shortness to the one she had just read about in his journal that it made her head spin. Perhaps it was what he had written, or her memory of being so very aroused back then, or the aftershocks of the powerful lovemaking they had just engaged in, or simply how very much William Murdoch affected her, but she was stuck once gain wanting him fervently. He had to turn her around by the shoulders and aim her at the door. He even gave her a slight shove.

William cleaned up the candles, the picnic blanket, and all their clothes. He would have to ask her whether or not she wanted to have the red leather outfit dry-cleaned. The Ishinpō book was tucked back in its place with his journal. He dressed in his pajamas, even though it wasn't even seven o'clock yet. Thinking of seeing Eloise downstairs for their dinner, he decided to put on a robe. Figuring Julia would be cold by now – he had sent her off buck-naked, he brought her her nightgown and a robe as well.

The sight of his naked, beautiful wife, whom he had just sexually devoured and whom he loved so much it hurt, seeing that amazing woman holding _**their**_ little son in her arms, nursing him while she rocked in the rocking-chair, her blue eyes so enthralled and lovingly held to their son's, such a sight settled deep into his core, filling him from the center outward with pure happiness. She lifted her eyes to meet his as he took in a deep breath trying to become one with the feeling. There was a recognition between them, of their luck, or their fate, or their destiny. Whatever it was, be it the wind or be it God, they were grateful, and they were grateful together.

William stepped into the room and wrapped her robe around her shoulders. He held up her nightgown and asked her if she thought their showing up for dinner in their pajamas would indicate to Eloise that they had been making love.

Julia giggled at the thought – not because it was outlandish, but because it was surprising to her that someone as bright and quick as her husband would not have grasped that Eloise already was completely sure of something that obvious. "William," she said though her giggles, "Eloise is quite a smart cookie herself. I wouldn't be surprised if she not only knew what we were doing, but where and how we did it as well." Her words caused him to blush, igniting her heart into playful joy. She so loved him.

As the couple walked into the kitchen, nearly a half an hour late for dinner, dressed in their pajamas, the detective apologized for their being late. She noticed that he made no effort to give an explanation, trying quite hard to keep the smile off of her face.

William detected Eloise's grin. " _Julia is right_ ," he thought, " _She is completely aware of what we just did_." He couldn't help it; a preening smile took his face and he subconsciously puffed-out his chest. To be so loved by such an amazing woman as Dr. Julia Ogden – what man would not swell with pride? As he stepped behind Julia, who had placed the baby in his high chair at the head of the table, he couldn't resist the urge to touch her. He tucked one of her many rebellious curls behind an ear and leaned down and tenderly kissed her ear, before he moved on, pausing to lean down and kiss William Jr. as well.

Over dinner he told her that he thought she should start tomorrow to look for a live-in nanny. She had been sure he would see the wisdom of her ways – so sure, she had already started a preliminary search. Eloise had a friend whose daughter sounded perfect. She already had the young woman's number. They agreed to set up a time for an interview when they could both be present.

Recognizing that Eloise was part of the family too, William said he would clean up, allowing her to leave at the same time as usual, despite the fact that he and Julia had been late. Eloise was grateful, but more importantly, she felt cared for and respected in a way that was so rare in the world, and it deepened her care for the couple. She had known the doctor for a very long time, having had worked for her since before she had left for Buffalo. She had always liked the detective – if for no other reason than because it was so obvious to her how totally in love with him her mistress was.

As Eloise closed the front door behind her and headed home, she thought to herself, "The detective seemed so gentle, calm, and peaceful this night … probably because they had made-up and made love, after whatever was wrong this morning." She had a special place in her heart for Dr. Ogden, felt almost as if the woman were a daughter to her, and she had found she now had a similar place in her heart for Detective Murdoch. She knew he was a warmhearted man, but it was commonly hidden somewhat under an edge. She figured many people missed it about him, distracted by his keen intellect. "Probably his job forces him to shield his heart," she thought, "dealing, each and every day, with the brutality and ugliness of man." She understood now how essential their love for each other was – each helping the other to be the best person they could be – "Storybook," she concluded, with a smile, glad to be a part of it.

Carrying the last of the dishes from the table, Julia put them down on the kitchen counter and stepped behind her husband. Her arms wrapped around his waist; she had to stand up on her toes, just a little bit, for her lips to find his ear. "You have such a kind and fair heart, William Murdoch," she said before he felt her lips, then her teeth – so softly, and then her warm, velvet-smooth tongue. Like a flame to gas, he felt the igniting, first in his brain, then so quickly down lower, delaying his ability to think of a response.

She stepped away, took a sponge, and cleaned off the table. She tended to the cleaning of the baby as well, for he was at an experimental stage with his food, ending up wearing much, much more of it than he ever actually got in his mouth.

William approached them, drying his hands with a dishtowel and said, "Now, I suggest that I entertain William Jr. here…" He lifted the baby out of the high chair and held him up into the air at arm's length. His voice a little higher and lively, he spoke to his son, "We will have some man time. Would you like that, little man?" he asked, as he playfully tossed the 3 month-old up and down, making the baby smile and the baby's father's eyes glisten. Julia looked on, enjoying the scene. William glanced at her, his chocolaty iris' dancing from the corners of his eyes, never turning his face away from William Jr., and added, "And that will give your Mommy some of that precious "me-time" she needs."

Rising from her chair at the table, she replied, "That would be lovely," and she gave William a kiss on the cheek.

He pulled the baby to his chest, resting him in one arm and bowed to his wife. "Good," he replied. Congratulating himself on successfully setting his plan in motion, he brought the baby down with him into his workshop.

Julia hesitated for a moment, unsure how to best use the time. Her eyes drifted to the orange and yellow roses – Eloise had put them in the dining room. She had known the moment she saw them in William's arms that he wanted to mend things with her too. " _Interesting_ ," she thought, " _His subconscious… Conjuring up the colors from the balloon, but what was it he said?_ " she asked herself… " _Yellow from the wedding, and orange because it invokes a fiery passion and desire in him…_ " And she heard William's voice in her head, _"… when I think of you,_ " he had said. A smile on her face, nodding her head up and down, " _It was fiery and passionate all right,_ " she thought.

Her thoughts shifted and she added the fact that she brought roses home with her after visiting William at work during the day to the list of clues Eloise would have had about their relationship. " _And peanut brittle!"_ she remembered with a jolt. The very first thing she would do with her "me-time" would be to have a glass of wine and crunch on peanut brittle while she read her latest novel. She gathered together her personal treasures and brought them to the living room, pausing momentarily at the stairs to the downstairs playroom, workroom and lab room. She heard William talking to their son. The boy would have to get used to his father's professorial moods, she thought warmly. After luxuriating for a while, Julia called the prospective new nanny, her name was Claire-Marie – Julia pictured William conversing with the young woman in French – and she set up the appointment for Saturday afternoon – before they would have to get ready for the Montenegro's party, and then she went upstairs to enjoy a bath.

William sat in his favorite reclining chair in the living-room after placing William Jr. in the new device in the playroom. He had heard Julia finish a bath earlier, and anticipated she would be down shortly. He picked up a science journal, planning to use it to look nonchalant when she arrived. An article pertaining to his idea of bringing refrigeration into their home, both to cool and freeze food, and to cool the air in the house during the hot summer, caught his attention. His eyes streamed back and forth quickly across the page when Julia walked into the room.

She had noticed their son did not seem to be in the room, telling herself the baby must have dosed off, would probably be in the baby-carriage or upstairs in the crib. She wanted to watch him, her attractive husband, still in his pajamas – she was pleased he had shed the robe, in the warm lamplight, but he immediately looked up and caught her eye.

It did not go beyond William's attention that her hair was wet, and down – that she had bathed, and her sumptuous, lush body was sequestered, but only very thinly protected, by her fine, silk robe. "Julia," he greeted, placing the journal down on the side table.

It was the way he looked at her – as if he was casting a spell. She instantly felt weak in the knees. Julia returned the look, the power of it forcing him to take a deep breath. Their sexual banter had begun. She approached. He slid forward in his chair, watching the way she moved, until he reached the edge. She stopped a few feet from him. Trying to be the one in control, he lured, "Come here." She did; she was willing.

Julia stood directly in front of him, so close he could smell her. William opened his knees, reached up and took a hold of the sash around her waist, and pulled her in close, arching her back and bringing her to stand between his legs. Julia studied his face, watched his eyes, so intensely focused. She felt his fingers loosening the tie of her sash, felt the floor lift closer with the sound of the hungry air flooding out of his nostrils as he guided the two ends of the opened sash downward, his need, his looming, starting such a delicious rush in her head. From his seated position, he had to reach up to place his fingers, so carefully, between her breasts at the juncture of the touching of the two sides of the robe. Julia fought desperately against her urge to moan when the edges of his fingers, feather-light, pushed the silky edges apart, gliding down over the upward curves of her breasts, opening the robe. His eyes grew so dark as the fabric caught, bumped, as it slid outward, revealing the rosy-pink peaks of her nipples.

William's hands tucked under the fabric, and moved lower to hold her by the waist. His voice, on the verge of a pained whisper, asked, "Does the wanting you ever stop?"

"My God, I hope not," Julia breathed in response.

He pulled her body to his mouth, sucked and traveled across the flesh of her belly. Julia's insides squeezed and twisted, becoming taught, wringing out longing, hot, juiciness – she felt it pooling between her legs. She gasped feeling William's hand on her inner thigh, then sliding into her folds, and the man moaned with the warm, syrupy, succulent discovery of her yearning for him. His voice was scratchy and rough when he told her, in between kisses and nibbles all along her body, "I intend to…" (Kiss), "have my way with…" (Changing the tilt of his head, then his teeth, causing her to gasp), "You Julia…" (His mouth on her hip – " _Mmm_ ," and his tongue, crushed her). He warned, releasing her flesh momentarily, "I'm not feeling gentle…" (" _Oh my_ ," his breath hovered above her mound), "I want to love you hard…" (Such a soft kiss), "And ferocious…" (His head tilted and she felt him take in her skin, then his teeth, so rigid), "With such a fury you won't be able to walk."

Oh, she craved for him even harder. "William," she said, through hurried, passionate breaths. She stepped back, and then placed one of her long sinewy legs over him, widening her robe, offering him a whiff between her lustrous, creamy thighs, then settling in his lap, continuing, "I want you to love me so hard… (Her hands slid into his hair), "So deep inside of me…" (She kissed his temple, tickled her lips across his eyelashes), "That not only can I not walk…" (She pulled his hair to lift his face to her. Just a light peck on his lips), "But I can't eat…" (She changed the angle and kissed him again), "And I can't breathe…" (Her teeth nibbled and sucked on his jaw, so close to his ear), "And I can't speak…" (Her hot, demanding breath battered his eardrum), "I can't even think, because you got so deep."

He cursed the fact he still had on his pajamas. His mouth pleaded to taste her. He leaned down to claim the tempting, bulging, globe of one of her breasts, ravaging it, sucking it, slurping it.

In the back of her mind, the reminder rang out – her breasts were full – she needed to nurse the baby!

William must have realized it too, for he immediately released her breast and dropped his face into her neck. He sighed, "Not the right time, hmm?"

Her lips glanced across the tender edge of his ear, "Later, husband," she promised. She stepped back from him, freeing his lap. The carousel of the world slowed its spinning. Julia's hands rose to her hips, her posture grew imposing. "William," she prompted, her voice registering her concern, her doubt, but was twinged with a dose of teasing, for she had every confidence he had guaranteed the safety of their son, "Where is our child?"

"Don't worry Julia. He's fine. Come see," he replied. He led her down the stairs to the playroom. William Jr. was playing, hanging from his father's latest invention… "It's a bay bouncer!" William declared. It was obvious the child loved it – he was bouncing up and down, aided and guided by the springs in the contraption, a big smile on his face.

"He's so happy!" Julia cried, as much to her baby as to her husband.

William pointed out that he had also rigged-up a listening devise. He had thought of it based on something similar he had invented for a case when they needed to overhear a conversation in which the suspect admitted to the crime. The microphone sent the sounds William Jr. made to a receiver that he currently had placed in the living room – so they could monitor William Jr. while he was down here and they were upstairs – so they could hear if he fussed or cried right away.

"You are brilliant, William," Julia said with a kiss.

Later, laying together in bed as they recovered from a rather rowdy round of lovemaking, Julia pointed out that they had found many different ways to get everybody's needs met – They had found the importance of talking with each other and sharing what their needs were, and they had found ways to trade needs based on priorities, and they had found that they could enlist help from others (like hiring a nanny), and, of course, they had found they could also inspire the brilliant Detective Murdoch to create useful inventions, like baby-bouncers and monitors. There were probably a few more ways, but she was tired. It had been a long day.

Julia rolled off of his chest, signaling she was ready to drift off to sleep. William rolled over too, molding his body behind her, spooning with her, bringing smiles to both of them with the comfort of the full body touch. Julia's hand hung down from her hip, her fingertips dangling just above the mound of hair crowning her most sensitive anatomy. Subconsciously, her fingers traced over her scar as she thought about all of the twists of fate that had brought them to this moment once again. She added to the list that if William had not stretched his understanding of the truth, if he had arrested Isaac for admitting to performing abortions, then they would likely never had tried to have William Jr. She marveled at the amazing act William had performed, cutting her open to deliver their child… Just before slumber took her, she thought, " _If all else fails,_ _ **I must remember to trust in the wind**_ _._ "


	20. Chapter 20The Dress

Journal Journeys_The Dress

After parking his bike in its spot next to their porch, William slung his jacket over his shoulder and trotted up the steps for the front door. " _Humming_ ," he noticed. He was quite happy. _And why not?_ It was a magnificent spring evening, he had solved the latest case – sure to make the papers again, much to the delight of the Inspector, and he was even early… early getting home to his beautiful, brilliant wife, and their miraculous baby boy.

The smell of dinner, a mouthwatering mixture of fresh-baked bread and fish, filled the air. As he hung his hat, a smile slipped onto his face, for next to it on the rack was one of Julia's more ridiculous little hats, and he found himself feeling so grateful – grateful that he could be Dr. Julia Ogden's husband, a father, and even keep his Catholic traditions, like eating fish on Fridays.

William Jr.'s playful scream pierced the air, the delightful sound coming from the kitchen, drawing William to it with a bounce in his step. The nearly four-month old infant smiled at him exuberantly as he flung himself up and down with all his might in the baby bouncer. William quickly noticed that Eloise stood at the stove. She must have been watching over the boy for Julia was nowhere to found.

"Good evening, Eloise," he greeted, squatting down in front of the baby, "smells quite delicious."

"Evening detective," she replied. She took a glance at him. " _Such a handsome man_ ," she thought, not for the first time. He already had removed his jacket, uncharacteristic for him. "Our William Jr. sure loves his bouncing. I must say, that is one of your more wonderful inventions," she complimented. She could tell he was about to ask, beating him to it she said, "The doctor is upstairs… said something about picking a dress for the party tomorrow night." She smiled to herself at his expression, " _It seems the party must have escaped the detective's mind,_ " she thought. As she turned back to the stove, her head betrayed her thoughts, shaking side-to-side, and she stifled a giggle. " _Not his cup of tea_ ," she remarked to herself, admiring him even more for trying so hard, going along, being such a good sport. It was probably her favorite thing about the man, how much he loved his wife.

Before William had a chance to wholly focus on his son, the boy had taken a solid hold of his tie and inserted a significant section of it into his mouth. Now in his daddy's arms, he sucked away on the delicacy, his big brown eyes gazing up at its true owner.

Already accepting the fact that, after being cleaned, it would be none the worse for the wear, William asked playfully, "What is this fascination you and your mother have with my tie, hmm little man?" He pulled a bit on the tie, hoping to keep enough of it out of the tiny child's mouth to save him from choking on it.

Eloise answered him, teasing, "It's how they each keep a _**handle**_ on you detective, don't you know." They shared a smile.

"Neither of them needs a tie for that," he chuckled, "They both already have me wrapped completely around their little fingers."

Laughing in agreement she said, "This is true."

William took his son on a quick tour of the house, talking and adoring the boy, enjoying having various parts of his face poked and prodded, and letting his heart feel the joy that even the tiniest smile on the infant's face could bring. After a few minutes, he asked Eloise if she would keep an eye on the baby, placed him back in the bouncer, encouraged him for a few moments, supplying him with a cherished toy to hold while he bounced, and then headed upstairs. Unsure which he wished for more, catching his wife in a gorgeous dress or catching her _**not**_ in one, William hurried, skipping over every other step.

Julia had finished adding the finishing touches to the outfit, the necklace and earrings, gloves, even the black feather in her hair. She stood from the chair at her vanity and evaluated the results in the mirror. She had not worn this dress for years – she tried to remember if William had ever seen her in it, finding she couldn't think of a time he had. It was black, low cut – very low cut… " _But_ ," she thought, " _It sure does enhance my bosom_ ," bringing her to raise an eyebrow at herself... " _They look quite … amplified_." The design trimmed her to the waist with the top's classy v-shaped stitching down front. And she so loved the three elegant jeweled loops that hung down over each shoulder.

She hadn't heard him coming up the stairs, but their eyes met when William walked in the bedroom door. "Detective," she said.

William's body seemed to turn to jelly with the sight of her, allowing for every cell, every atom, in his body to change orientation, to turn to face her. His heart thumped and pounded, racing to supply needed blood. His lungs burned, having been halted, stunned, suspending needed oxygen for the brain, causing his head to begin to spin. Blood-hot jolts ran directly to his groin. His very essence reached for her, like the Earth reaches for Sun and the Moon reaches for the Earth.

Julia could not help but smile, for it was obvious that her husband was floored. "I wore it once for a party Darcy and I held," she said. Julia turned to one side, put her hands on her hips, then turned to the other side, then swung her hips at herself in the mirror, further assessing the dress, and mercilessly teasing her husband.

William forced himself to swallow, finding it helped restart his breathing. It happened so quickly. He imagined her walking into the Montenegro's party on his arm, his mind's eye seeing the other men react to the sight of her, aroused, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Instantly – instantly – jealousy surged through his veins. He felt it, his fingers curling into fists, his jaw tightening.

Julia fussed with the black skirt, talking. He hadn't heard what she was saying. " _What? What is she saying?_ " he asked himself, trying so very hard to regain control of himself.

She continued her story, "Much to Darcy's chagrin, I had had the audacity to bring up contraception. Lamont wanted to argue about it … Even put up a feeble attempt to do so …"

"Julia," William said, his voice taking on that rational, logical tone he used when making a point, "If you want to win an argument with a man, you want him to be able to think." His hands stressed his point as he continued, the right hand seeming to chop into the left one, "A man can't think if his brain is _**soup**_ from looking at someone like you wearing that dress."

Her big, blue eyes lifted away from the mirror, settled and nestled into his. _Oh, he knew it was coming_ … Her smile grew mischievous, "Is your brain ' **soup** ,' William?" she flirted. Surely the temperature shot up 15 degrees in the room.

"That's not the point Julia," he defended. "That dress is too, uh …"

She turned away from him and said, "I like the advantage it gives me. But my question was does it look alright now that my breasts are bigger?"

William had not heard her ask that question, although he was sure she probably had. There was a part of him that took on the task of coming up with an answer for her. " _It looked a hell of a lot better than alright,_ " is what he thought. Another part of him strove to find a way to make sure she _never_ wore that dress around any other men, _ever_. But what most surprised him was that some other part of him – Julia would say it was his subconscious – it just wanted to touch her, wanted her to never take that gorgeous, breathtaking dress off, and wanted to enjoy getting her out of it at the same time.

"Well?" she asked, her eyes honing in on his.

William chuckled at himself, then wrinkled up a corner of his mouth…

"What?" she demanded.

"Julia," he said, stepping close to her, "Truth be told, I just want to get you out of wearing that dress… At least …" He slid his hands up her forearms to her shoulders, and his eyes dropped down to soak in the dizzying, breathtaking sight of her. _My God, he wanted his mouth on her. He wanted to squish her breasts together and bury his face in her bosom… And taste. He really, really wanted…_ "I don't think you should wear it to the party," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

He swallowed and stepped back. "Julia," he said with a twinge of pleading." She held his eyes firmly. He would have to explain. Finally, he pushed it out, "I would get jealous."

Her hands moved to her hips, signaling he would not be getting what he wanted. "William," she half-heartedly scolded, "You need not worry about other men, you know I have eyes for only you. Besides, I would think you would want me look good."

"This is … too good," he replied.

Julia laughed, and then headed out the door. "Men!" she declared as she marched down the stairs to ask Eloise her opinion.

By the time Julia returned, carrying William Jr. in her arms because he had been fussing, William had removed his tie, his shoes, his cuff links, his badge and his vest. He stood at her closet, looking through her dresses. Julia halted at the door, " _Oh, he had best not be picking out a different dress for me to wear_ ," the infuriating thought pumped through her veins. She needed to nip this in the bud.

"William," she said, trying to sound calm. He turned to face her, stepping back from the closet. His eyes shifted to the baby briefly before returning to hers. She could tell from his look that she had failed in hiding her annoyance. She took a deep breath, so hoping this would not lead to a fight. "We have a modern marriage, based on equality, yes?" He nodded. She walked into the room, needing to soothe the baby with a few bounces and a quick kiss. "One of the things I don't think the husband should have control over is what the wife wears," she stated plainly.

Although William agreed with her, he found himself feeling defensive. "I wasn't trying to control you Julia. _You_ asked _me_..." he explained, knowing in his heart that he did want to control her. And still, from the moment he had told her his reason, when her hands went up on her hips and that beautiful jaw jutted up in the air, and his heart skipped a beat because when she was so strong and so stubborn it rocked him to his soul – he had known since that moment that he did not have an inkling of control.

The baby threatened to start to cry, Julia warding it off by switching him to her other arm and talking playfully with him momentarily. Her eyes met William's again, " _Don't sound angry_ ," she told herself. "I asked you something very specific about the dress – not whether or not you thought I should wear it…"

" _True_ ," he thought, " _But wasn't that question implied in … What exactly did she ask?_

William's confused look irritated her. "William, I just wanted to know if my breasts looked too big for the dress – now that I'm nursing," she rushed to explain, her head shaking with a twinge of anger, setting her frame of wayward curls and the black feather into a lovely dance.

" _Oh yeah, that was it_ ," he thought. He cleared his throat – it took courage to speak to power, even when your plan was to deflect it, and asked, "And did Eloise help you with an answer?"

Eloise was way too smart to get in the middle of a potential argument between them, thus, she had not. Julia had no desire to tell William that she had gotten the impression that Eloise had agreed with _him_ about the dress looking too sexy, though the woman would never say such a thing, even when asked, and further, she was from an older, more reserved, generation. Julia knew that. She stalled, changed the subject. "Could you change him William, while I change out of this dress for dinner? … Eloise said it would only be about ten minutes," she asked.

William smiled and reached out and took the baby. "I'd be glad to," he said. However, he stayed, waited, for the he knew the issue was still unfinished.

Julia's beautiful eyes softened as they looked into his. She sighed and said, "Eloise described a method to tell if a dress fits." Julia turned and went to the vanity, (she had already known this same method). She pulled the feather out of her hair and then removed the earrings as she continued, "You look to see if your flesh bulges out over the seams." She sat, turned to look at him and then turned away again quickly. He wasn't sure if anger had surfaced, or maybe it was her steeling her resolve. She grit her jaw and added, "This dress fits."

"Good," he said with an uncomfortable bow. He caught her eyes, seeing the flames in them subside. Then he pinched his lips together and repeated, "Good." He turned his attention to their son and said, "Now … This little man needs a new diaper. I know. I know. You've been trying to tell us …" he spoke to the boy as he walked out of the room.

Julia undressed, carefully placing the black dress on its hanger. When she went to put the dress back in her closet, she noticed which dress William had been stuck on. It caused her pause, for it was _the red dress_ – the one she had worn to the Policemen's Ball – the one she had worn to tell him she and Darcy had parted – the one she had worn to tell him she expected nothing of him, but … she loved him so much she could hardly survive it and she prayed with all her heart that he still loved her the same way – and he had said he had seen the future – and it was her. _My God, she loved this man_.

After dinner, the Murdoch's sat on the porch enjoying a warm spring evening. William and Julia played with the baby and discussed a myriad of things – whether they should use some of Julia's insect repellant on the baby, the plan to eat freshwater fish from the lake rather than that shipped from the Atlantic Coast with the hopes that it is a safer food source, especially in light of the meatpacking case William had worked on, whether or not to tell the new nanny about the secret passageways in the house, even whether or not Eloise would have thought they had made love before dinner because Julia came downstairs in her pajamas.

Risking bringing up a touchy subject, Julia asked William, "When was the first time you remember feeling jealous? I mean, was Dr. Tash the first one?" she added with a giggle.

William pretended to be insulted, "What makes you think I was ever jealous of Dr. Tash?" he demanded.

"William," she laughed, "Don't you remember all the questions you asked me about my relationship with him … after he had helped you find the crime scene where Richard Hartley had been initiated into the rowing team…"

"That doesn't mean I was jealous," he tried to insist, quite unconvincingly, for it was obvious he was holding back a laugh.

"William," she said, somehow tucking her chin in to look down at him, "You have to know Isaac told me about your conversation… Where's that journal of yours?" she suddenly asked.

William's eyes grew wide, "Oh no," he declared.

"Oh, I do think so," Julia stated, giving him a nudge. "I'll read you mine…" she said, handing him the baby and standing excitedly. He acquiesced, laughing and shaking his head, and she rushed upstairs to collect their journals.

Later, Little William Jr. finally tucked into bed, the couple sat in the living room comfortably nestled together in the reclining chair, hot chocolates half drunk on the side-table along with William's brown journal. Julia read from hers:

 **Isaac said William brought it up, asking how we had met. Much to my glee, he insists the man has a crush on me, although I dare say here that I do so hope it is quite a bit more than a crush. He said William cited the exact date that he had met me. Of course, Isaac doesn't know about William's brain – it is possible he just remembers the Clayton Bowles case that clearly. But there is plenty of other evidence to consider – the rising of the blue liquid in his truthilizer being the most significant, but then all those questions. Oh my God how my heart soared as he probed and prodded, "You and Dr. Tash were more than just acquaintances … you and Dr. Tash courted?" Absolutely lovely! And then there was that moment – when I was certain he was going to kiss me. Now** _ **that**_ **was lovely, complete with weak knees and stolen breath. Perhaps the wait won't be as long as I had thought. My God I hope not!**

Julia closed her journal and challenged, "Tell me I had it wrong, William." From her position sitting across his lap, she reached over and put the journal, with its flowered cover, down on the side-table next to his. She undid another button of his shirt, teasing and taunting him. Her fingers slid up the inside of the fabric to caress his neck, soon followed by her lips. She kissed up to his ear, then took his earlobe into her warm, slippery mouth, sucking and nibbling on it, inflaming his desires and his groin. He had thought of a response, but it was gone now. She let go of his flesh and asked close to his ear. "Do you deny it detective?"

William's sigh, deep and giving-up, made her giggle. "Fair is fair," he said, shifting under her and reaching for his journal. He read:

 **The first time I felt it – the gut-wrenching heat of the emotion, pure jealousy, I was able to deny it. She had said something about the dead boxer's muscular arms. At the time I felt my jaw clench and my fingers curl, and all of a sudden my arms felt puny and decrepit … And such nausea overtook me with the helplessness of it.**

William reached up and rubbed his forehead. He truly abhorred this emotion.

Julia felt a pang of guilt, for he was clearly stressed, and yet, her heart fluttered with palpitations knowing he had cared for her so much, in a romantic way, even way back then. It was true what he had always said, that he loved her from the moment they had met. She reached up and traced his lips, her eyes drawing his out of the journal. She offered him a smile, receiving one in return. She so hoped he saw her gratitude … and her love.

His hand left his forehead, took one of her curls appreciatively. He sighed again, and put his beautiful chocolate eyes back to his writing from nearly a decade ago…

 **And then there was the way Arthur Conan Doyle looked at her, kissed her hand. And Julia was clearly impressed by the man. He had every right to flirt with her – she is beautiful, brilliant, a rare woman in deed. I had to turn away not to punch him in the mouth. Monstrous jealousy was once again clearly housed within me, complete with its feelings of inadequacy and insecurity, seeming to burn with such power it reached up to the stars and at the same time drown all hope, creating a massive cloud of steam the challenged my ability to breathe, to see, to think. But compared to him, what do I have to offer her, he a world renowned author with wealth and fame, me nothing more than a detective's salary and, well truth be told, nothing more. She looked stunning in that dress, like a princess … Came from the Princess Theatre she had said, probably out on a date with a wealthy man, one more worthy of being her prince.**

 **But, this time, with Tash, I lost control. I can't believe I asked such things of the man – and then of Julia herself. I actually asked her if they had courted. So unprofessional! And I have to figure she and Tash will talk about it, for they have a deeper bond, a more intimate bond. He will tell her I asked him the same thing when I was with him – "Were you involved?" – My God how is that any of my business? And why would I be driven to ask such things in the first place?**

 **I remember it had started like an itch – a picture in my mind of Julia and Tash laughing together, one that I could push aside and ignore easily enough, but with it came the stirrings of my jealousy, and it seemed that once it started, like a chain reaction, it grew and grew, exponentially. And then my mind did it, crushing and exploding me in the same instant, for I envisioned them kissing. Still now the flash of the picture of it has the same detonating and devastating effect. My mind should have been on the case – Richard Hartley had been beaten, probably killed out in those woods – and instead of doing my job … I was walking through the crime scene picturing Julia kissing Tash, and I was letting such thoughts eat me up … and spit me out. I've lost all dignity in its wake. There's no hope she took it to be simply small talk. "You seem quite taken with Dr. Tash," she had said. That sure shut me up.**

 **But my feelings for her still loom, dreams that taunt and tease me with what could be, but of course never will. And now those dreams have moved on to such dangerous levels, leading me to fantasize – completely out of control. Today was unbelievable, shameful really. It seemed so real, and she must have just stood there watching me imagine it, right in front of her like that. My God, the kiss I imagined was wild and out of control, and I dared to imagine she returned it just as passionately. And it does so hurt to think that, never, will I know such a thing, and I can't ever let something like that happen again. All the confessions in the world won't be able to repair our friendship if I let myself fall, and I know now, that even more so than the feelings I have for her, it is the feelings of jealousy – a completely unwarranted jealousy for she is not mine and never will be, it is those disgusting feelings that will undo me if I don't keep them harbored. Never again. I truly must focus on work – I am a detective, she a pathologist, and yes, we are friends. Draw the line William – and hold it.**

William closed the journal, keeping his eyes down on the plain brown cover. "I managed it for a while, holding the line," he said, still seeming far off. He chuckled, spurring a light inside of her, bringing her back to him, there and then once again. His laugh had pulled her eyes to his, and with that touch, love was back, filling the air, and all was well once again. William took a slow deep breath, letting the feelings sink deeper into him. He placed the brown journal on top of the flowered one and turned back to her. His hand rested on her thigh, giving it a soft caress. Her eyes asked … about his laughter.

"Right after you so admired the boxer's arms, Amos Robinson I believe," William scratched his cheek and continued, "I went out and bought my weights. I started working out, building up my muscles," he said, jokingly lifting his forearm and bulging his bicep for her.

She giggled, taking the opportunity to slip her fingers down his shoulder to feel the solid, strong muscle through his shirt. "So," she said, her voice taking on that seductive tone that shot straight to his groin and raced his heart, "It's not all bad that comes out of jealousy then. You were well on your way to becoming my, "intelligent thug," she giggled again at such a bizarre notion, one he had come up with in the morgue after her ramble on Darwin and sexual selection. Her hand had slid under his shirt and was exploring, sometimes with a squeeze, sometimes with a scratch, the sculptured curves of the muscles on his chest as she continued, "… my intelligent hero."

The fuse was lit. Her kiss guaranteed the fire. Slow, white heat … buttons and sashes enticingly pinched and popped and slid, clothing slipped and dropped. Mouths tasting flesh, bodies and skin dancing, sliding, melting, she mounted him, there in that chair. He rose to her, strong and fierce, and she fanned the flames, over and over and over. This lovemaking was hot and welding, fusing them into one. Finally spent, they remained merged, complete and satiated, only the slowing pace of hearts and breathing reminding of the impermanence of the perfection. Reality floated down, cloaked them, covered them, seeped into them. After a time, she slid off of him, rested her head on his shoulder, basked in his gentle kisses and reassuring strokes, and listened to his heart and his breathing, becoming more and more aware that it was his, and not hers, and she loved him more than words could ever say, and he knew it, and she was happy, and so was he.

William had decided not to tell her, but the jealousy he felt about the dress was not the same as that he felt towards an individual man, like Tash or Darcy. It was more primal, more male – founded in the deep unyielding urges that, once triggered, were so hard to extinguish or even control. There was a tipping point; he knew it and it seemed she did not, would not. He would need to keep his jealousy at bay but he also knew he would need to guard, for she was quite desirable, and she was his, and there would be wolves mixed in among the gentlemen, hidden in sheep's clothing, and any man, every man, can weaken and become a wolf.

Needing to clear his throat first, William asked, "And you milady, has jealousy pumped through your veins?"

"Of course," she answered, "With Liza and Mrs. Jones." She took a deep breath, let her mind run, to be halted and stung with the various memories. "Even Eva… And of course Anna," she added. It did seem she could go on and on. Julia lifted up off of him to find his eyes. Her eyes narrowed, like the archer inside of her was honing in on a target with her arrow, "I think my first really powerful jolt of feeling jealous was when Ruby showed up in her showgirl costume and her bodice…" Julia pinched her lips together, revealing her annoyance with the whole affair. "Her flirting with you," she went on, slipping her fingers up his jaw to play with his ear, "it caused blatant jealousy in me. Of course, you know Ruby saw, she could tell I was jealous and she poked at it even more. It caused such a rush in me, a panic, that called me to action, although it was frantic, it was clearly undeniable."

He smiled and pulled her close for a quick hug. "I was only interested in her to learn more about you," he said.

Julia rested her head back down on his shoulder, "Then of course, there was Sally Pendrick…"

In his mind William corrected, " _Sally Hubbard_ ," wanting to remind himself that she had not been what she had seemed. A shot of worry pumped through him, for a time he had thought it was his relationship with Mrs. Pendrick that was driving Julia away, causing her to doubt his love and flee to Buffalo.

Julia began to laugh, sitting up, "Do you remember the painting William?"

Her laughing was contagious. But considering everything, he couldn't help but blush. "Julia," he said, trying to sound confident, "I knew all along it was a naked woman…"

"Oh, not a landscape with a red pyramid?" she teased.

William braced himself, telling her, "I had seen Mrs. Pendrick modeling for the artist… when I went to question her … at their estate."

"In the nude, William," Julia said, pulling away even further, eyebrow shot up in the air, "You saw Sally Pendrick in the nude?"

He nodded. He sighed as his shame bubbled up to his consciousness. "It seems it was her intention all along … to seduce me, distract me … play me, really … for a fool."

Moving closer to the flame, them both feeling the heat of it, Julia asked, "And were you seduced William?"

He knew he had been. And yet the whole experience mixed so painfully with Julia's telling him she was leaving him … with their heart-wrenching discussions in the morgue … that he had trouble holding on to the memory of being beguiled by the sinister woman. His brown eyes reached for her. "On some level I suppose I was," he admitted, his mouth rising at one end.

Julia dropped her eyes away and responded, "I guess I should have been more jealous than I was, then."

Their thoughts drifted… both feeling regret and soreness.

"Who was the first one? … I mean after Liza of course," he asked.

Her head on his shoulder, the weight of it, the intimacy of it, reassuring, she replied rather quickly, "Ettie … twice."

Of course William knew of the most recent time, from while he was undercover on the meatpacking case, right before William Jr. was born. It had been one of their very worst fights … the wounds, the memories, now healed but still sore. He sighed, and reached up to rub his forehead. Julia wondered if a man as bright and as observant as her husband would ever discover his "tell," admitting to herself she hoped not.

"Twice?" he asked, his mind racing backwards in time. " _Perhaps when we first used Plan C at her father's lake-house and I told her about Ettie…_ " he thought…

Julia remained in her cozy position on his shoulder but reached up to find his hand. She took it in hers, brought it down from his ruffled brow and kissed it. "I saw the two of you – to close for just business, just acquaintances, too charged for just friends – when I arrived at the Music Academy to examine the body at the crime scene."

William remembered the time … That he was concerned Ettie wanted to refuel their relationship.

Julia slid up and placed her lips at his ear, "That is why I teased you so ruthlessly about your relationship with her, and meeting her at a Church Function," she whispered, her voice enticing, starting a tingle down his body to reignite his groin. "I was definitely jealous detective. Little did I know how jealous I should have been, truth be told, hmm?" she asked with another kiss, this one less alluring, for it followed a reminder of the complicated web of it all – and the pain.

Julia asked herself if there were any other women she had felt jealous of, mostly as a means to move on from the still tender memories of his secret rendezvous with his past lover and … Suddenly, it hit her hard, in the gut, prompting her to gasp, the sound drawing William out of his thoughts.

She looked so devastated – wounded. William didn't have time to think; he just asked, "What is it?"

Her eyes bolted, and she hurried to get away. She stood up, put on her robe and reached for the empty cups of hot chocolate on the side-table, cleaning up. She said, "It's getting late," and headed for the kitchen.

Rising right behind her, William quickly put on his trousers, "Julia?" he called. He followed her into the kitchen, stood next to her at the sink as she rinsed the cups and then placed them in the dishwashing cupboard. "What?" he asked again.

A big sigh flowed out of her. She turned to face him. "The waitress," she said, "I remembered the waitress."

Such guilt and regret immediately filled William's heart. He had never seen Julia so distraught over something he had done as she had been then. His mind replayed it – the moment his eyes met Julia's after having been called from his lustful imaginings of having his way with the waitress who had just flirted with him and then moved on to bend over and enticingly clean and scrub the table behind them.

She saw it on his face, watched as he ran through the emotions all over again. She tried reminding herself that he loved her and only her…

Stunned. Weak. William stuttered and then blurted out her name, "Julia… I'm so sorry… I, uh…"

Julia took another deep breath and made an effort to reassure him, "I know William. It's alright," she said. She cupped his cheek and then headed for the stairs. "William Jr. will need to be nursed soon. Will you finish up down here?" she said as she walked away. It had hurt so very badly. She worked to reason with herself, desperately searching for the thought that could erase the pain. _"We resolved it. Let it go,"_ the thoughts tried to gain hold in her mind _._

It shocked him how powerfully the resurgence of the feelings burned. All over again, he fought the urge to hurt himself, wanting to punch, and stab, and punish, the battle between yielding and holding rendering him stuck. He remained there, in the kitchen for a time.

Upstairs, Julia went through the motions, brushed her teeth, combed her hair. William Jr. would wake soon, hungry. She knew so by the swelling and fullness of her breasts. Sitting at her vanity, she felt it grow, regret. She had taken pleasure in his jealousy, a fiery romantic pleasure. But now, feeling the revolting, helpless feeling devouring her, she regretted stirring it in him.

William came into the bedroom, carrying their shed clothing from their lovemaking, and their journals. Their eyes met in the dim light. How she tried to send him the message, that she loved him, that everything was alright. She found instead that she received his – he was hurting, beating himself up. He turned, placed her nightgown on the bed and then dropped the remainder of his clothes in the hamper. He placed the journals down on his dresser, keeping his eyes down on them as she started…

"Do you remember," she asked, "that it was Isaac who said that all men were dogs?"

William wrinkled the corner of his mouth as both, the memory of Julia telling him of this, and the admission to the fact that the statement was correct, collided with his face.

Julia stood and approached him. She so loved the look in his eyes, big, open, hopeful. "He was making a point William," she said as she reached him, stood in front of him, close and warm. He felt her fingers take his chin, her soft delicate skin catching over his day's-worth growth of whiskers…

The baby's first cry was soft, still drowsy and sleepy. It drew their eyes away from each other, to the hallway.

She turned him back to face her, her fingers still holding his chin, and finished, "You are only human William," she said, and then she let go of him, left to care for the baby.

Later, Julia brought him the baby to burp. Wearing only his pajama bottoms, William put a towel over his shoulder and spoke to the tiny child as he took him from his mother, "Good evening, William Lionel Henry Murdoch Jr. … I would wager that was pretty yummy? … Now, let's go see those stars." William took their son out into the backyard on this cool spring night. With the sound of crickets filling their ears, the smell of grass and trees in their nostrils, William's voice spoke with the awe that he felt in his heart for the universe, and William Jr.'s father pointed out the magnificent twinkling lights in the sky. William turned the boy around in his arms, so their eyes could be aimed in the same direction. "That one there," he whispered in the infant's small ear, "Its light shines blue and bright, like your mother's eyes, that one is Sirius. Once you find it, then you have found the 'Greater Dog,' or Canis Major."

His mind leapt and he heard Julia's voice in his head, _"All men are dogs._ " Emotions mixed with emotions in his chest. His lips kissed the baby's soft head, he breathed in the infant's scent. The profound responsibility he had, that he held in his arms, his son, _**his**_ – it grew heavier, for he was not just bringing up a child; he was bringing up a man.

Julia watched from their bedroom window. The bad taste from the memories of William's transgression, his ogling of the waitress, was dissipating. She so loved to watch them together, father and son. She knew that if more men had had a father like William then the world would be a better place. Julia giggled to herself, remembering the Eugenics Society, complete with the eccentric H.G. Wells, and she thought that maybe they weren't so wrong after all – they had asked William to become a member. Then a memory took center stage, swooping her whole body into the experience. It was of the time they had discussed the breeding of a prize stallion and a prize mare, and she had become extremely aroused, and only recently William had told her what he had imagined doing with her at the time. " _Yes,_ " her mind noted, " _He is a man, through and through. But, my God, he is a good one._ " As she watched, William turned and brought the baby inside. She left the lamp on his night table glowing and slid into bed.

William Jr. quiet, content and asleep, William stepped silently into their room. It seemed Julia had gone to sleep. He sighed, unsure of what to do. Awful feelings of guilt and shame and regret drove his worry, his uncertainty. He searched for clues. She slept on her side with her back to him, implying a lack of connection. But, she had left the light on – that felt inviting, welcoming, like she wanted him in bed with her. And there was no bedding left out for him to use elsewhere. He decided the evidence suggested she meant for him to sleep with her. Taking a deep breath to fill his courage, William lifted a leg to sit softly on his side of the bed, never taking his eyes off of Julia.

Feeling his weight sink down into the mattress, bending space-time, tugging her to him, Julia rolled over onto her back and propped herself up on an elbow. She held the blanket to her chest and found his dark chocolate eyes, so very gorgeous in this low light.

"Should the dog sleep on the couch," he asked sheepishly.

She did not expect the question. It helped her see how strongly he was still fighting with his bad feelings – but the humor and self-deprecation of his statement offered healing. Letting the blanket fall a few inches lower to reveal the tops of her breasts, quite intentionally for she very much wanted to seduce him, she lifted herself higher and leaned closer. "Perhaps," she answered with her voice bordering on a whisper.

There was that wrinkle of the mouth. He needed saving.

"William," Julia said as she shimmied over closer to him, "I was hurt. I felt … undesirable."

She was warmed and spurred on by the dazed shaking of his head. "No… No," he uttered softly, seeming as much to himself as to her and to the universe.

Even closer, her voice low and intimate, her breath humid as it flowed over his skin, she continued, "Guilt is a useless emotion, William – unless it motivates you to repair." She felt him open, listen, hope.

" _But how_ ," he thought, still lost.

"Do the opposite. Make the opposite happen. Show me that you find me …"

He got it! He understood! She was in his arms so quickly and he promised, "But you are Julia. You are. You are the one. The one I desire more than anything else in the world. Nothing in this world will ever mean more to me than you. You are my light, my pulse, my spark. You make my life worth living. Truly, I am only right when I am with you. It is the only time that there isn't something wrong."

Such relief and excitement surged through him with the feel of her fingernails scraping across his scalp, and her breath rumbling in his ear. "And when we make love?" she asked.

In his mind he imagined it – pushing her down on the bed, pushing into her, deeper and deeper into her, the rhythm, the pressure, the power building… _My God he wanted her_ – wanted to be inside of her – wanted to hear her breathing call to him, hear her gasp as she pulled him and her moan as she yielded, over and over again with their primeval beat – to feel her tight and hot around him and to give her all of himself, everything he had, when he finally touched her in that one perfect spot.

He inhaled the delicious smell of her deeply and then turned to bring his lips over hers. Hovered, in the delightful anticipation of the touch, he waited for her tilt.

"It seems that if I want the man in my bed then I will have to take the dog too," she accepted as her lips grew closer, glancing with the words.

" _Easy William_ ," his inner voice coached when their lips touched, and they each felt the mingling of their breath, the rushing of their hearts and their blood, the familiar heat growing more and more prominent, demanding their attention with its expansion.

By the time her fingers had tugged at the string of his pajama bottoms, he had grown big with urgency. As he rose up onto his hands and knees, forcing her deeper down into the mattress, shifting the tilt of the world, swirling her with his gravity, she pulled desperately at the fabric, removing the final barrier. He planted his knees between her thighs and leaned forward, pushing up into her, widening her legs, opening, taking. Synchronous was the touch of his chest to her breasts, squashing and crushing with his weight, and the luscious touch – hard, penetrating, power into wet, lush, weakness. Moans bellowed and blended in the air. Finally together, yet now hurried for they were so close, and the closer they got, the greater the force pulled. Sheer desperation demanded complete effort. As hard as he could, he drove into her. There was nothing else in the world but moving closer, and closer, and closer … until a pausing silence stilled the world, announcing the imminent fall. He had her. She was right there, already tipping over the edge, her moan surging him beyond belief and the wave lifting him, breaking, flinging him into the abyss. He pumped with all his might, milking the delicious pleasure out of each second, each surge. "Mmm," he melted into her. "My God I love you," he told her, still inside her, still fusing her soul, still thrusting - long and deep, and hot, so very, very hot.

The couple slept, affirmed, tight, safe and warm.

Saturday morning came quickly, the infant's cry functioning as the alarm clock. There was much to be done. William prepared their breakfast, and Julia went out to a charity meeting. While the baby napped, William lifted weights, working to maintain his ability to be Julia's _intelligent hero_ , all the while listening in on the baby-monitoring device he had made. After lunch the baby got a bath. They each found a treasured few hours for their individual passions – Julia absolutely marveled in reading about the discovery of the XY sex-determination system that had been independently proven by both Nettie Stevens and Edmund Beecher Wilson, bursting into William's workroom, where he had coils and motors laid out all over the place, to tell him about it. William reported his results as well; he was getting closer to devising a way to refrigerate their food and, he hoped, to cool their house in the summers too.

By the time the woman who Eloise had recommended as a nanny rang their bell, Julia was prepared. William Jr. was awake, and nursed and dressed. And she had her list of questions. After answering the door, which she had hoped William would have heard and thus would have come upstairs himself, she briefly excused herself to go get him. He was dressed much more casually than most people would ever see, and he had a few spots of grease or some other form of dirt here and there on him, but Julia figured their nanny would need to know William the man more so than William the detective, so it did not matter.

Julia found there were moments where she was able to sit back and simply observe. She did like the young woman – Claire-Marie was her name. She held herself with confidence, yet she also had a natural respect for others. There was evidence that she had been well-educated, as she spoke well and was enthusiastic about discussing politics, literature, and even seemed to hold a good foundation in the sciences.

Julia watched as Claire-Marie and William carried on a conversation in French, at one point catching William's eye, giving him a Mona-Lisa smile, causing him to pause and prompting his mind to question, for he could not fathom its meaning. " _Once again, he has no idea,_ " she thought. Claire-Marie was obviously smitten. If Julia had had time, she would have delved into the effects William's blindness to female flirtation had on her jealousy, but they needed to decide whether or not to hire this woman, whether to bring her into their home, into their family, to play a part in the raising of their son. Thus, she breeched the subject of romantic relationships, making sure to hold her eye quite firmly to those of the young, attractive and alluring Claire-Marie. As she did so, she handed the young woman their son, both parents watching closely to see how she connected with the baby and how he seemed to be with her, and Julia sat on the arm of William's chair, wrapping her arm around his shoulders possessively. Instantly she knew Claire-Marie got her message. Julia also entertained a little giggle to herself, for her husband remained clueless, albeit he did seem slightly startled by the public display of affection.

They decided to hire her. Excitedly, she agreed to return later that evening to help Eloise watch William Jr. while his parents went out to a dinner party. After Claire-Marie left, Julia warned William that he had best start getting ready for the party. He needed a shower. Before he went upstairs he commented, "And she is a remarkably pretty young woman," turning the tables on her after all those years ago when she had similarly admired the young man who had thought himself to be Sherlock Holmes.

Julia raised an eyebrow at him. "Remarkably?" she questioned, and gave him a playful shove.

William laughed and, with his eyes full of mischief, he winked at her.

 _Perhaps he wasn't as blind as he had looked,"_ her voice inside her head noted _._ (Although in reality, it was William's curiosity and internal questioning, after he had detected his wife's pointed, "look," and suggestive public displays, that had led him to his understanding). She warned him, her eyes narrowing to tiny points, "You're trying to make me jealous…" prompting even more laughter from him. "You louse!" she declared and bopped him with a couch pillow.

Defensively, he pulled his wife into a hug.

"Don't try to make up for it," she said, fighting back her own smile, working to produce a pout and a threat, but finding the combination challenging. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then a more heated one on the mouth. The moment he released her lips, she pushed back and continued, "Besides, her looks have nothing to do with her qualifications for the job," she argued.

William refused to completely release her, keeping her in his arms. "Oh, I beg to differ – I'm pretty sure William Jr. would thank me for it if he could," he countered.

Julia stopped to consider this, "Perhaps," she decided. Her brain was starting to hurt, struggling with what probably was and what she thought should be. "Go on," she said, stepping out of his arms and pushing him towards the stairs. "It has been too long since I have seen my gorgeous husband in a tuxedo," she called after him.

They waited in the living room, the two women, Eloise and Claire-Marie, and William, and the baby. It seemed that William Jr.'s new nanny was infatuated with the boy, and he with her. Eloise watched the detective out of the corner of her eye. It was not the first time she had seen the man in a tuxedo, but every time she felt her eyes stall and absorb the sight of him. Handsome was not a sufficient word, for it lacked the inclusion of the charm and genuine warmth the man had, but it was the word that always bounced around in her head.

William pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket for the third time in the last five minutes. His wife was late. He took a deep breath working to calm himself. She had had to nurse the baby, he reminded and explained in his mind, but their hosts and guests would not likely be given an excuse. Hopefully no one would notice, but with each moment that ticked by their arrival threatened to be more likely to stand out.

The bedroom door upstairs banged closed and all eyes, save for William Jr.'s, jumped to the foyer. Everyone stood up and went to wait at the foot of the stairs. William began to coach himself, preparing for the sight of Julia in the black dress, the dress that seemed to bypass his brain and hit directly in his groin, the dress that he knew would do the exact same thing to any other full-blooded male. Still, Eloise watched him, more intrigued by _his reaction_ to the doctor than to seeing her in the dress again for herself. She tried to turn away, attempted to turn and look up the stairs instead, ashamed of her voyeurism, but she so wanted to see, to know if his heart stopped, and his eyes dilated, and his breath caught, and she glanced, ever so quickly, taking measure, providing a before-and-after comparison, at the apex of his trouser legs, experiencing a twinge of guilt at her secret dirty pleasure.

Because the staircase was divided in two, with a landing half-way down to change direction, they would all be able to take in the sight of Julia dressed for the party, from head to toe, in that one, initial moment. "William," her voice called as her footsteps started down, making a backbeat as her heels tapped on each step, "I'm sorry to make us…"

She stepped around the corner of the stairs, onto the elevated stage, the complete vision of her suddenly in view. "… late," she finished. The world paused, the air stilled. Her eyes devoured the sight of him. She knew in that instant, she knew that she had made him happy, so very, very happy.

Eloise's gasp had been delayed, loud enough that she felt the need to rush her hand up to cover her mouth, for that gasp had announced it, out loud, the surprise. Her mistress was stunning, beyond beautiful … but that was not why she had been so startled. No, it was because she had seen the detective's reaction, and it had been everything she had expected and more – and she swore he looked so joyful, so in love, that he seemed on the verge of tears. And she sensed it was because the doctor did not wear the black dress after all, but instead wore a dazzling red one. And Eloise was certain, absolutely certain, that the detective had seen his lover in that red dress before. She felt tears well-up in her eyes, as if she had been watching a fairytale, for somehow Eloise was positive that something very powerful, something very important, something magical had happened the last time the couple's eyes had met when the doctor was wearing that red dress. She looked on as Julia continued down the stairs, took her husband's hand, accepted his gracious and loving bow, with such a luminous smile gracing her face. And Eloise prayed, while at the same time she heard it being foretold, that the detective and the doctor would truly live – happily ever after.


	21. Chapter 21Peter Pan

Journal Journeys_Peter Pan

 **The Montenegro's Dinner Party**

Arriving late to the party, the Murdoch's took center stage as William escorted Julia in on his arm. Even if she had not been wearing the spectacular red dress, the dress that rang an internal magical note deep down inside of him, she still would have outshined all the other women there combined. The moment he saw everyone's eyes, men and women alike, dilate to better take in the vision of his wife, any thought of jealousy seemed to dissipate. She was on his arm, Dr. Julia Ogden, the stars had willed it to be so, and William could not help but to exalt pride and satisfaction.

With Julia quickly whisked away to join the women off to one side of the room, William headed for the other side of the room to mingle with the men. He had not met any of them previously, and he fought with all his might against the pang of self-doubt threatening to well up from within. Feeling out of place and uncomfortable in his tuxedo only reminded him that talking at parties was not his forte, a fact only made worse by the class of the men he was approaching.

The host, a banker, Daniel Montenegro stood and invited William over, shared introductions, and then offered him a chair. He sat, immediately trying to decide whether or not to keep both feet on the floor or cross his ankle over his knee, as was his habit. Quickly he noticed that most of the men in the room were sitting with their legs crossed at the knees. Choosing that position, it instantly felt too feminine and before he had a chance to consciously decide, he slid his leg across the other one, ending up in a sort of hybrid position with his legs crossed just behind the knee. His eyes looked into those of his host with a quick nod and he worked to stifle a deep breath. Julia glanced at him from the other side of the room. "She looks so very stunning tonight," he thought, being both, reminded of his triumphant mood, and feeling a much appreciated sense of relief.

All four of the men who were gathered around smoked cigars, and Montenegro offered one to William as well. Observing that the man had called him "detective," William had no clue as to whether to address him as, "Daniel," or, "Mr. Montenegro."

"Oh," William replied eyeing the opened cigar case in his host's hands, "No thank you, though I am sure my wife would likely indulge."

To the haughty raising of eyebrows, William fought the urge to squirm.

"Really detective … who is it that wears the trousers in your marriage?" Montenegro reproached.

Before William could answer, Montenegro turned to find Julia across the room, prompting William to pull back his response as indignation stirred in his heart and he felt anger start to bubble.

"Shall we see for ourselves," the man of the house queried as he ducked his head left and right to find a direct line of sight with Julia. "I suppose your wife will be the one drinking the after-dinner brandy as well?" he chided.

William sighed knowing the evening's outcome would likely meet his host's condescending prediction.

A man sitting across from William leaned in and said, "Don't take it personally, every man here has a wife in the suffragist movement, with quite modern views … Though some of their husbands have to be dragged along kicking and screaming more so than others."

"Dr. Ogden," Montenegro called out boldly, drawing the attention of all of the other women as well, subsequently commanding the interest of all those in the room, even that of the servants. "It has been suggested that you would enjoy a cigar," he said.

It grew quiet.

Julia smiled. "How well my husband knows me," she replied, giving William a loving, flirtatious and reassuring look. She turned to the other women and asked if anyone else would care to join her, only to be disappointed – among them there certainly was no 'Emily Grace.'

As Julia approached the men her eyes remained fixed to William's. Both her host and her husband stood from their chairs. William tugged down on his cummerbund feeling self-conscious with his current enchantment and overall predicament. The women at the party followed along in Julia's wake, and she stopped in front of the two men. Mr. Montenegro opened his silver cigar case and extended it for Julia to take a cigar. As she brought the cigar to her mouth, he lifted the box of matches from the side table.

There were sharp intakes of breath as Julia said, her tone intensely alluring, "Such a gentleman, but I would much prefer for my husband to _light my fire_." Julia's eyes turned and merged with William's – romantic sparks seemed to fly throughout the room.

"Of course," the man replied handing the matchbox to William.

Julia stepped close, the cigar still down at her side. She held William's eyes, finding them warm and deep, and twinkling with that beautiful chocolate color that had the ability to melt every cell in her body. William looked down at the matchbox, removing a match and preparing to strike it – Julia dropped her eyes down to his bow tie. He felt her breath on him, smelled her fragrance. Her fingers pinched his tie, drawing his eyes back up to hers. He had thought to warn her about being so forward in public, but …

Julia stepped back slightly as she placed the cigar in her mouth, her eyes never leaving those of the man she had chosen to share her life with. For a moment, they were cocooned in their connection, the rest of the room silent – almost dark with distance. She let go of his tie, he brought the matchbox and match between them and then stilled, building the anticipation. She felt a bump, a shift, when the match struck, seeing his eyes glow, the heat, even the smell of sulpher bringing a slight gasp. She watched his eyes as he watched the end of the cigar, where his fire met her fuel. With a familiar, enticing rhythm, the embers glowed and grew regularly bigger and brighter, red and then dimmed, red and then dimmed, red and then dimmed, as she puffed the ignition to life. Satisfied, he shook the match out. Julia lifted her chin to inhale deeply, exposing her most vulnerable aspect to him. William's eyes drank in the availability of her long, luminous, helpless neck, mouthwatering arousal forcing him to swallow. Removing the cigar from her mouth, she stepped in intimately, brought her mouth to his ear. Hot smoke entangled and shrouded them as she spoke, "Sigmund Freud might say that this is one of those times when a cigar is _**NOT**_ just a cigar," she said. She followed it with a shy giggle, and then stepping back, once again increased the distance between them.

The man who had supported William earlier tilted his head over to another, "I'll wager it gets pretty steamy in their bedroom," he whispered, receiving a nod.

William took her hand and turned to look at the chair he had been sitting in. "Shall we sit, milady?" he asked.

"That would be lovely," she replied. As William sat in the chair, his wife sat to his side on one of the large, upholstered arms of the chair. She crossed her long legs and propped an elbow on the back of the chair behind her husband's neck. William, still feeling slightly dazed, but much more comfortable, brought his ankle up to rest on his knee. All of the members of the party gathered together, small pockets of conversations broke out here and there.

One of the waiters brought William a glass of water. Julia leaned down and told him, quietly, that she had asked for it for him. He leaned over closer to her and thanked her. "How are the other husbands treating you?" she asked.

"Oh, fine," he answered, "Just a comment about who wears the trousers." He managed to sound nonchalant.

Even without looking at her, for William's eyes watched the room, he knew she was about to tease. "Well," her delightful whisper slipped across his ear hinting that he should drop his eyes for more privacy, "He won't be the one I will be taking out of his trousers tonight, will he? As a matter of fact, William, you are much, much, more of a man without your trousers than he will ever be with them… And," she added, giggling, with William certain she had lifted an eyebrow in judgment, "in my professional opinion, he wouldn't stand much of chance in the manhood competition if both of you were without your trousers either."

William cleared his throat, lacking words.

One of the women spoke up, her voice loud enough to gather the attention of everyone, stopping conversations, "It is so exciting to have such a celebrity couple here with us tonight. I believe you were in today's paper again, detective. And as far as the society page, I was so intrigued by the stories I read after your son was born. You two are really quite something."

Another woman said, "I believe there is even a _Murdoch Appreciation Society_ …" hiding the fact that she had been a member at one time. "They celebrate the detective's many adventures, and all those amazing inventions and contraptions as well. If not for my husband I …"

One of the men stood and asked, cutting her off, "What was it like to climb down into the barrel of a rocket to disarm it – And to jump out of a hot air balloon and fly back down to Earth?"

Uncomfortable with the admiration and attention, William was blushing. No one seemed to notice except for his wife, and the group rallied with the topic. William rushed to think, trying to come up with an answer about the rocket – or the flying…

"James Pendrick gives the detective here credit for being the first man in the world to actually fly an airplane!" Montenegro added.

Quickly the group fell into disarray as people called out various incredible stories they had read or heard about Detective William Murdoch – "Remember when he saved Christmas!" – "And when he saved the Queen's life!" – "Or how about when he solved that whole vampire thing!" – "And don't forget the "Microwave Death Ray!"

William raised a hand trying to get everyone's attention. "Now, now … Wait a second. I must say, I did not do any of those things on my own," he stated. He looked to Julia, "Dr. Ogden here, and all the constables, and even citizens like yourselves …"

"I must say, William," Julia interrupted, "I very rarely do such risky things as you … Like flying in a suit with some sort of wings – from as far up as the stratosphere!"

" _More like plummeting_ ," William thought. He wanted to minimize the, " _ **risky**_ ," part, knowing it often brought tension and angst between himself and his wife, who was now also the mother of his child, but before he could get a chance to try to do so …

A voice called out, changing the subject, "He's like Peter Pan! Deep down inside there is a boy who never grew up, flying around having adventures, fiddling with his inventions."

"Of course!" someone declared, to seemingly unanimous agreement.

One woman said, "You know, I remember reading a story where the detective flew in a Time Machine – said he saw his future. It's like Detective Murdoch's own Neverland!"

"I rode in that Time Machine too," one woman yelled, turning to talk to her friend.

Arguing, a man said, "No. No, his Neverland is his life, everyday. That's the point – he has these astounding escapades and ventures because of his job – and how he does it – solving cases, with wild chases, and bad guys and monsters, and his innovative devices."

Finally Julia's voice reached over the excitement. "What is Neverland? And what, or who, pray tell, is Peter Pan?" she asked.

Still seated next to her, William took a deep breath, his eyes sparkled with curiosity. "We have certainly missed something," he concluded.

Mrs. Montenegro answered, with everyone else looking on, "It's a play, called Peter Pan."

"It's quite good," a woman added.

"And Neverland is an imaginary place where extraordinary and magical things happen. Hence, " _ **NEVER**_ ," Mrs. Montenegro explained.

William wrinkled a corner of his face and said, "Then what I saw when I was in the Time Machine was a Neverland, full of things that I imagined – that would " _ **never**_ " happen, at least I thought so at the time." He looked over at Julia to see if she understood his point – that the wondrous and enchanting things he had seen while in the fake time machine with Dr. Roberts _**did**_ come true – they were living them right now, all the way down to the fact that their son would be eight-years old in 1912, like he had seen in the time machine.

A man excitedly described the play. "The story is based on a boy, Peter, who refuses to grow up. And as you have already heard, he can fly – to this Neverland and back. He meets the children of a family and teaches them to fly and takes them there," he explained.

"Julia is his Wendy!" a woman declared.

"But, of course!" another woman calls out.

"Exactly!" agreed Mrs. Montenegro.

Intrigued, Julia leaned even further forward and asked, "Who is Wendy?"

The woman answered, "She is older than her two brothers, more mature and responsible. She inspires Peter Pan and he falls in love with her, but he doesn't know it … and then Peter teaches her to fly."

"Did the detective here teach you to fly, doctor?" a guest asked.

Julia smiled, and bounced gleefully in her seat. The couple glanced at each other, sending Julia's heart into a flutter as William smiled at her. "I believe he did," she replied, her answer inspiring William to give her a happy nod.

A momentary silence was broken when someone added, "And the constables are like the Lost Boys," receiving much agreement. The man looked at William, adding, "The Lost Boys are the boys that Peter leads – in Neverland."

Julia placed her hand on William's shoulder, drawing his eye. "That does sound like the constables then, albeit they are not all that lost – most of the time. We will have to go see this play," she said eagerly.

"Oh, you will love it! You must go see it," they all agreed.

Not yet finished making analogies and connections between the play and Detective Murdoch, the man who had been so friendly earlier looked at William and said, "You know – your real life story even has appropriate villains for our analogy. Your, " _Captain Hook_ ," so to speak – could easily be an evildoer like that James Gillies."

Alarm surged within both William and Julia with the mention of the nemesis' name, surging a chill even to this day, despite the fact that they knew they were safe from him. Their eyes bolted, finding each other. Julia opened her eyes wide. "Oh my," she said to William.

Authoritatively, Mr. Montenegro took a deep breath and stood up, his body language and his tone poo-pooing the game. "We are forgetting," he said, "The detective would have to be too grown up to be like Peter Pan, constantly dealing with this sordid business of crime and murder."

Not wanting to end the fun, Julia argued, "Of course, you're right … but there are some similarities, and being a policeman and fighting for justice … well, it's not all dark." She looked over to William, remembering how he had responded when the actor playing him in Pendrick's movie implied much the same thing, saying his work must have had a heavy cost on his soul. She marveled at the clarity of the memory, able to use the exact same words she had used then now. "William sees crime as an intricate puzzle … one that can always be solved. It really is very exciting," she disputed.

William interjected, "And ninety-nine percent of the time I rely on you, doctor, to help me solve these challenging and complicated puzzles." He looked to the others, and went on, "Julia does much of the brain work. A pathologist is invaluable in solving crimes, even more so a spectacular one such as Dr. Ogden here."

Julia smiled, accepting some of the credit, for her husband spoke the truth, although possibly not the whole truth. She found she admired him even more so for his being humble.

A woman asked, "What more is there to what a pathologist does than determining time of death and what killed the victim?"

All eyes turned to Julia. "Take lividity," she started, professorially, "the pooling of blood to the bottom of the body after death due to gravity. It can be used to determine time of death, starting to appear about 30 minutes after death, and lasting for about twelve hours. But it can also tell you if a body was moved." Eyebrows rose with intrigue.

William leaned forward, adding, "For instance, say someone strangled a man while he was laying in his bed – startled him in his sleep. The blood would pool under him …"

Knowing exactly where he was going, Julia picked up the case scenario, "Because of gravity. But if the murderer moved the body, say to make it look like a hanging – hoping the police would rule the death a suicide …" She paused, sure that someone would figure it out.

"Of course!" an excited voice called attention, "Then the blood wouldn't have pooled where it should have…"

"It should be in his feet and legs," someone else continued.

"But instead the blood would be on the victim's back, or side, depending on how they had been left lying in the bed after the murder. Wonderful!" another person said, drawing triumphant cheers.

Julia was having a great deal of fun, and so continued the show. "Of course there are other ways to know in a case like this as well," she said. "Stand up detective," she requested, joining him in the center of the group. All watched as she started to undo his bow tie. "We will need this…" she explained.

William added, "Remember, the crime was a strangling."

However while Julia handled William's tie it happened again, the passionate charge between them kindled and grew. As Julia's unwrapping of his tie became more rough she said, her eyes focused on her work, "You should all know that there are times I very much am tempted to strangle my husband – when he has gone into some dark alley alone after a suspect, or into some other dangerous situation…"

Her breath was hot as it cascaded over his chin and down his neck; William swallowed as the tension built.

Slipping the bowtie free from around his collar, Julia said, "There," as she took the tie firmly in her hands and then stretched her neck up high, encouraging William to do the same. She wrapped it around his neck, "So, if I strangle a man, let us say for repeatedly scaring the hell out of me by constantly risking his life when he has a wife and child to care for…" then she crossed it end over end and pulled it taut, "The ligature marks would be angled perpendicular to the spine as you see here. But if a man hung himself…" Releasing the tie, leaving it to loosen as it remained around William's neck, Julia's fingers glided and traced seductively up and down curvatures of his chest and then up over his shoulder, showing off his muscular build under the elegant suit, as she stepped around him. From behind, she moved close to him, her breath in his ear and re-grasped the tie, turning it to bring the ends to the back of his neck and then twisting the ends into a spiral until the tie grew taut once again. "Let us say he hung himself from the ceiling …" she said, lifting the "rope" end of the tie upwards behind William's head, pulling it snug.

Mr. Montenegro stepped forward, "Then the angle of the marks would be different. Brilliant!"

The group applauded the show.

"Thank you detective," she whispered in his ear, being sure her lips grazed across his skin.

He turned to face her and she stood in front of him redoing his bowtie. "Always glad to be your victim," he said to her, so very, very quietly she had to strain to hear it.

"And I yours," she let him know. Bowtie complete and perfect, her hands remained on his tie. She felt his hands take her elbows, then slide up her arms towards her shoulders – her breath caught. " _This is William – in public_ ," she thought nearly in a panic with the intensity. He tilted his head. His lips were so close.

The Montenegro's tactful butler announced dinner, having paused at the doorway as he himself watched the presentation, waiting until after the applause. Julia was glad she had had the opportunity to finish her demonstration … and for the fact that all those eyes left them briefly, now, at this moment, when she was so sure he would kiss her. She waited … watched his eyes as he pulled back and looked around to see if they were alone. She caught it right before she heard the woman's voice, his sigh of disappointment.

"We are starting with a pumpkin soup," Mrs. Montenegro said, her message coming from a rather close proximity to them. Much of the group was waiting for them to come along.

William released her and turned away, taking her hand. Julia smiled at her hostess. Noticing they were still the center of attention, William continued with the topic from before the butler's dinner announcement, "I learned everything I know from this bright and exceptional pathologist here," he told the gathering as they walked to the dining room.

Taking their seats around the table, Julia corrected, "Well, far from everything I'm sure, but we do make a remarkable team – as William's record at Stationhouse #4 shows."

The full course meal took quite some time. Conversation was lively and the food was exquisite. They neared desert when Julia leaned over to William and told him she needed to go now, that she would not be able to wait much longer. He knew it was because her breasts were full of milk – she would have had to nurse their son hours ago, if not for having built up the reserves of pumped breast-milk to leave with Eloise and Claire-Marie. Having glanced over at her swollen bosom and not wanting to draw attention to his wife's breasts, he decided he would be the one to announce their need to leave early. Not waiting for an opening in the various discussions around the table, William spoke with an authoritative and confident voice, hushing the room. "Unfortunately," he said, "I am afraid Dr. Ogden and I will have to take our leave before, what I am sure will be a splendid, desert…"

Julia quickly added, "As you all know, we have a baby at home and …"

William stood and helped his wife with her chair as he offered their explanation, "We have never left him with someone else. I am sure you understand."

The couple thanked everyone for a lovely time and the Montenegro's accompanied them to the door.

Julia apologized again for leaving early.

"It is too bad it was before desert – it was crème brulee!" Mrs. Montenegro tempted them.

Julia's eyes bulged wide expressing her enthusiasm for the delectable treat. She teased, "That was cruel Miriam," receiving chuckles all around.

Mr. Montenegro piped in, "And I had an after-dinner brandy with your name on it Dr. Ogden."

"Completely despicable!" Julia exclaimed, adding to the playful jolly.

William took a deep breath, "Thank you. We had a wonderful time," he said.

Mrs. Montenegro stood in the doorway as the couple headed for the steps. "We are so glad you could join us. And you must go see Peter Pan," she called after them.

"Oh, we will," Julia promised, "Have a good night."

In the cab, Julia was pleased to hear that William had had a good time too. Only moments after the cab had jolted into motion she asked, "Do you think he could go faster," prompting William to holler to the driver to pick up the pace. Once they arrived home, Julia rushed into the house as William spoke briefly with the driver and then hurried in behind her.

Eloise and Claire-Marie were already waiting in the foyer for them, having heard the cab pull up. There were big smiles and welcomes.

"How did it go?" Julia asked right away.

The two ladies shared a look and then Eloise said, "He drank his bottle well, but we had a very difficult time getting him to go back to sleep – I think he was still hungry…"

Julia nearly bolted for the stairs. "Thank God," she declared excitedly, "I'm about to burst!" She rushed up the stairs with one hand holding up her red skirt and the other supporting her breasts in the hope that the jiggling around wouldn't cause them to leak.

William turned to the two women, clamping his lips together shyly, unsure of what to say. There was an uncomfortable lull and then Claire-Marie blurted out what was on her mind, "You cut quite a fine figure in a tuxedo, detective – quite dashing and handsome."

Eloise held back the urge to reprimand her niece. " _Too flirtatious_!" she yelled in her head.

William's ears started ringing with worry. He dropped his chin, hiding his eyes as he reacted. Quickly he recovered, "I just hope I made a suitable escort for my beautiful wife," he replied, again clamping his lips together.

Eloise jumped to the opportunity, "Oh, how right you are detective, Dr. Ogden looked absolutely stunning tonight," she gushed, nudging Claire-Marie to do the same. "I am sure she was the most beautiful woman at the party tonight," she added.

William smiled, answering honestly, "That she was Eloise."

Claire-Marie swallowed, suspecting she had behaved inappropriately and making an effort to push away her embarrassment. "Extremely beautiful… She was, of course … your wife I mean," she stumbled to agree.

Gesturing towards the front door, William told them he had a cab waiting to take them home. He paid them and thanked them and they shared their goodnights.

William stood before the closed door, releasing a tense exhale. " _Good_ ," he thought, " _Now, I do believe my beautiful wife missed out on desert and a brandy…_ "

After Julia had nursed and burped the baby – who was now sleeping, she re-did her red dress hoping William would enjoy taking her out of it as much as he seemed to enjoy watching her in it. She softly closed the door to the baby's room and noticed their bedroom door ajar. A lovely flickering light shone into the hallway. "William," she called as she pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

Her chest filled with warmth as a glowing, delightful feeling of love expanded inside of her. Bathed in candlelight, still wearing his tuxedo, William waited for her at her vanity. Blue met brown, their eyes connected, intensely focused yet open and soft. He stood, then lifted a serving tray …

"Hot chocolate!" she declared. She noticed there were some of Eloise's cookies on the tray too. She walked over to join him.

William explained, "I thought since we missed desert …"

"Crème brulee," Julia added.

"And you didn't get a chance to indulge in Daniel Montenegro's highly acclaimed after-dinner brandy," he continued.

"William!" she exclaimed, "You spiked the hot chocolate!"

His eyes dazzling, so warm and so delicious, he nodded. "Mm-hmm," he said.

Julia took a sip, her eyes still looking into his, tingling with excitement. Bottling-up her enthusiasm, she forced herself to whisper, "Chocolate liquor and vodka, William! The very same brew that so inebriated Margaret Brackenreid at my Baby Shower! How delightful!" Reveling in the slow, warm sinking of the liquid as it slipped down her throat, she added, "Mmm," when she enjoyed another sip.

Her eyes watched as William lifted the warm cup to his lips and he took his first sip. " _Interesting?_ " she thought, recognizing the intoxicating way he sucked on the inside of his mouth after he had swallowed, the gesture ringing bells in her memory, of him talking of green fairies after sipping on absinthe. "Did you spike yours too!?" she asked, fascinated.

"I did," he smiled. He invited her to take a seat as he leaned his buttocks on the edge of the vanity. "It felt like a special occasion – perhaps it was the dress," he explained, evoking an almost secret smile from his wife. The couple sipped their after-dinner drinks, devoured the cookies, and talked, and giggled, and laughed together, replaying scenes from the party, as if they were children in a sandbox jumping from toy to toy to be used in the building of a sandcastle.

Finished with the treats, Julia stood and modeled her dress for herself in the mirror. The mood, the whole ambience, slowed as the light seemed to change, the room somehow growing dimmer, her being becoming mystifyingly luminous. His heart skipped a beat – his brain now challenged to meld the experience with two earthshattering memories of her in this very dress at the same time, the oldest – and strongest, with the path to the memory being well worn into his mind, was from the Policemen's Ball five years ago, but now there was another, from tonight when she had rounded the corner on their stairs and surprised him, not only with her beauty, but with her love.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, satisfied with the effect she was having on him. She wanted to ask him if he liked the dress, if he had appreciated her choice, if he was happy, but conceding to herself that she already knew the answers, she held back. Waiting, paused, the sound of his voice drew her eyes to his as he answered her unasked question…

"Eloise said she knew you were the most beautiful woman at the party," he said.

"Oh," Julia queried, her voice low, deeply intimate, "How would she know – not having seen the other women there?" as she took a step closer to him, setting their internal humming to a faster vibration, increasing the force between them.

William, not wanting to betray his increased arousal stopped himself from swallowing, thus his voice was smoky and dry when he explained, after Julia's eyes were pulled down to watch his chest expand with his deep breath, "Logical deduction – for you are the most beautiful woman in all the world."

His answer surged her heart with storybook thrill. When her eyes looked to his face, searching for sincerity, she saw that his eyes were down on her body, those beautiful brown eyes, wide, and dark, soaking her in with a lustful thirstiness that pulled at her insides so hard she ached and arched with need. She fought for self-control, denying her urge to step closer to him.

"Am I Peter Pan's Wendy then after all?" she asked.

William too was battling to regain his composure. He welcomed her game, reached for it trying not to seem desperate. "Perhaps," he replied. "But of the two of us," his face curled into a smile, hinting that he was about to tease, "You are the one more likely to know how to fly."

"Me?" she asked, preparing herself, "Why do you say that?"

He stood and approached – it resurged, that romantic maelstrom, that addictive humming. "Well milady, it is you who is the one with the feather," he answered, his eyes seemingly mesmerized by the red feather atop her head.

Julia reached up to touch, to protect, her feather. "William Murdoch," she scolded, feigning insult, "Why must you always belittle my hats and hair adornments. I will have you know that such accessories are all the rage in Paris and London." She finished with a hint at a pout.

William chuckled and started to explain, "Julia … I must admit…" (a step closer), "I do find your hats, and …" (his eyebrow arched and he took another step closer), "even this red feather protruding out of your hair this evening…" (another step, now so close she felt his breath breeze over her face and tempt down her neck), "to be somewhat puzzling, and frankly a bit silly," (his eyes moved to the feather on her head while his fingers took the softest hold of the downy hairs of the red feather, pulling so very slightly to bring the fluffy strands straight). "But," he added, and when his eyes met hers she felt a hot, lightning strike that singed her heart, and her lungs, and her womb on its way to her soul, "the little boy in me, my Peter Pan I guess, feels his heart race with the sight of this bouncy, fuzzy clue telling of the playful, fun-spirited playmate housed within – it calls to me, invites me, charges me in a way that I find both irresistible and bewildering."

Entranced, Julia asked, "So, you like it then?" Her heart bubbled and seemed to erupt with joy when a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"I do," he declared, his eyes twinkling with delight, and then … he stole her feather! And he bolted out of the bedroom and down the hallway past sleeping William Jr.'s door.

The game was afoot! Yet, Julia wasted precious seconds absolutely stunned, astonished that her buttoned-down husband would do such a thing. She stood mouth agape shaking her head in disbelief before she took up chase. " _This Peter Pan thing has really gone to his head_ ," she thought, as her heart picked up a joyful pounding in her chest and she bounded after him.

She heard the last bedroom door shut, around the corner, out of her view. She dashed, her heart giggling in her chest and then opened the door and rushed in, the door swinging open with a great wind, the light from the hall spilling away the darkness… only to find her quarry was not in sight. Julia's first thought was that he had bound over the bed and would be ducked down, hiding on the other side of it. But, as she stepped around the foot of the bed, she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, motionless as a door nail, her tuxedo-clad husband, standing erect behind the partially opened door pinned in the space next to the bureau.

She turned to face him, challenging, "William, you are a thief and scoundrel." Both delightfully out of breath, chests heaving with the effort and the thrill, Julia approached wearing a threatening look. "Where is my feather?" she asked, observing that it was not in his hands.

William's eyes shifted, ever so slightly, then being pulled back to hers with rapid speed, to the bureau. "There is a ransom for the feather," he said confidently.

"A ransom?" her voice squeaked with indignation. She stepped enticingly close to him. Her intent was to tease, for she had noticed his glance, suspected she knew of his hiding place, and would be making no payoff for her feather. His breath caught when she touched his collar, tracing downward and reaching in seductively gliding along his chest, to search the inside pocket. Her warm breath flowed over his skin like an after-draft of her touch. The pocket, as expected, lacked the feather. As her hands moved down towards his pants pockets she asked, "And what is your price, in exchange for my feather?"

His hands gently grasped her wrists, halting her downward progression, blocking her discovery. "You will do whatever I ask," he commanded, his voice breathless, just above a whisper, tipping her balance, starting the kaleidoscope in her brain.

Her breathing changed, grew hotter, surging. He released her wrists and slid his fingers into her chignon. His lips took her ear. She was falling into his spell, fighting, fighting against the whirlwind. Reason tried vigilantly, sending her an argument to use, "William," she protested, "it's just a feather," her lips uttered, her breath cascading into his ear, encouraging him, building the fires within. "I …"

Images tumbled through his mind, all of them hurried, hungry. He took her firmly by the waist, lifted her and spun her around, pinning her against the wall. Holding her captive, he kissed her other ear. "Take these off," he said after his mouth released her earring.

As she reached up to oblige, seemingly agreeing to pay his ransom, he kissed down her neck, becoming stuck on her necklace. Julia forced herself to concentrate on feeling the metal pieces in her fingers, as she was so very distracted by his mouth – and his hands, for they explored ever so deliciously along the curves of her hips and around her back. Concluding she would be unable to complete the task this way, she pushed him back. After a big, deep breath, her eyes meeting his, she said, "I need a moment to comply with your demands." She removed the earrings and then reached back to undo the necklace, the action lifting her breasts, with their scrumptious, creamy, upper curves and cleavage popping out of the top of her red dress, and poking the hidden nipples and delectable orbs irresistibly into her husband's chest. "Where is a good detective when you need one?" she taunted, giving in to the urge to chuckle at her own joke.

Momentarily overwhelmed with the calls of lust, William's brain struggled to come up with a witty reply. He was entranced by her, dazed by her marshmallow-soft breasts pressed against him, surging his cravings. He was stunned, his eyes dark, soaking in every flicker of her, yet he managed to wrinkle his mouth and tilt his head to the side, as much as admitting that he was not behaving like an honorable detective at the moment.

She placed the jewelry on the bureau, the same bureau she believed held the treasured feather within its drawers, her eyes never leaving his. The power of his desire tugged at her and she fought against the maelstrom of it. Julia swallowed, pushing down her own lust. Her fingers slipped under his tuxedo jacket, riding his chest, over his shoulders, sliding the jacket off of him, allowing it to fall to the floor. Every bone in her body was drawn to his bowtie, but instead, she reached behind him to unfasten his cummerbund, letting it fall on top of the jacket. " _Now the tie!"_ she thought, moving in. Her eyes dropped away from his. Spotting the end of the tie, she felt a surge of delight bolt to her womb as she took a snug hold of it and noticed that his chest was heaving up and down out of breath, unveiling the height of his arousal.

His groin shot upright, threatening his control when she started removing his bowtie. William's hands grasped her wrists. "What is it that fascinates you so about my ties, Julia?" he wondered, finding his own powerful reactions to her ministrations with his ties to be just as puzzling.

"Honestly detective, you can take my feather, but you will deny me your tie?" she asked. She pushed him away, freeing herself from the wall. "I will not be paying your ransom," she declared. She gave him a quick glance as she opened the top drawer of the bureau, hoping to see worry or dread in his eyes, but finding instead a cocky look that confounded her. Quickly she realized he had intentionally glanced at the bureau during her interrogations to throw her off of the scent. Feeling annoyed with herself for being duped, she placed her hands on her hips and scolded, "Very clever William."

After a deep breath and a perusal of the less familiar room, she walked around to the other side of the bed, checked under it, under the pillows and blankets. She checked in the side table drawers, and even under the lamps, all to no avail. Flustered, she turned to him, still fighting acceptance of her defeat.

Her chin jutted up and her jaw tightened, sending a thrill through him – for he had always marveled at how it was her strength that seemed to be his weakness.

"Don't you look like the cat who ate canary," she pronounced, exasperated. " _How to turn the tables on him?"_ she thought. Then she had an idea! Fair is fair – she would steal his bowtie.

Her fingers traced along the red velvet border between her dress and her skin, his eyes tracked the motion. As she reached back behind her to unclasp the top hook of her dress, un-popping it and setting her cleavage into a jiggle as it bounced free of its prison, and then she moved on to the next lower clasp, all the while watching his eyes darken with hunger as the realization that she was undressing dawned on him, her voice alluring and slow, she said, "Why, I believe I even see little red, silken traces of my feather dancing in the breeze about your lips still, detective."

Having undone the top of her dress, she tossed it to the floor and stepped closer to him. It was a wonder she couldn't hear, couldn't see, his heart pounding in his chest, supplying his desperate body with hot blood, surging him to astoundingly dizzying heights. Julia reached for one of his wrists, unclasped his cufflink, then switched to remove the other. She reached over to place them with her jewelry on the bureau. "Perhaps you could help with the corset," she tantalized, distracting him with the question, once again taking hold of the end of his bowtie, this time increasing the pressure on it until it burst and the knot opened.

His groin boldly throbbed to his attention, seeming to take with it his ability to breathe. " _Uh-oh_ ," he briefly thought as he noticed an unusual sensation with his arousal and remembered its source … But it was lost as he began fighting the battle within himself that was needed to regain some sense of self-control … to speak, to answer her question … about the corset.

The bowtie mastered, dangling undone, parted around his collar, Julia moved on to the buttons on his shirt. He felt her take the top one in a pinch as her lips, softly slid over his. He reached for her with his mouth and she pulled back, denying him. "The corset?" she said.

Words swam in his brain and he desperately tried to catch them. William's knees weakened as she moved around him, stepped between him and the wall, placing her chest firmly against the wall, hands up above her head, rendering herself vulnerable and defenseless in front of him. " _The corset William,_ " he reminded himself, fighting the electromagnetic force pulling him to her to focus on locating and placing his fingers on the correct laces and pulling them through the grommets, loosening the garment. Moving downward, he unfastened her skirt, the red velvety fabric slipping to the floor, to gain access to the last few corset laces. Then he gently tugged the corset sideways to slide it from between the wall and Julia's body and tossed it to the floor.

Loudly, powerfully, his heart thundered in his chest. Pausing, he fought the urge to devour, to ravage … Now only the thinnest cloth separated her luscious, supple, warm, moldable body from him. " _Easy William_ ," he coached as his hands made first contact, the heat of her, the way her flesh surrendered under his fingers nearly collapsing him. He stepped closer as his hands pressed tight against her hips, feeling her hip bones before taking a firm, torturous tour up the curves of her waist, her ribs, to cup her breasts and slip his fingers across her pink, erect nipples, sequestered away under the fine, white threads of her chemise. Hot and humid, his hurried, demanding, breath rattled over her ear as his dry, scratchy voice puffed, "My God, you feel good," then he slid a hand up to take her chin, turn her face to the side and take her jaw into his mouth, his hard teeth grazing gently over the flesh before his mouth took hold and sucked her in. He seized her earlobe as his hand moved lower to re-capture a pliable breast. Pushing the two malleable orbs together, the sheer moldability of her forced a moan to surge free from his throat and echo its roar into her ear and ricochet deep into her brain. "I want you, Julia," his whisper ripped into her, heating her from the inside out.

The lush, heavy, spinning pressure of euphoria in her head threatened to drop her to the floor with its wave as his fingers tucked under the waistband of her bloomers and tingled the coarse mound of hair that guarded her screaming desire. "William," she called out breathlessly. Her body hovered near implosion, her deepest core tangled and twisted into delightful knots of pleasure, feeling his fingers slip down and then up into her, easily gliding across her slippery surfaces, fully drenched with yearning and need, while he sandwiched her, holding her in place in front of him between his strong arms and his rugged body, sturdy and rigid behind her, undeniably poking into her buttocks with his lustful protrusion. Gravity shifted, her knees buckled, the floor rose, her breath caught – and she fought with all of her might, forbidding the fall. " _The feather … and his bowtie_ ," her voice in her head called, reminded.

Her attention focused to the place where her palms touched the wall, working to ground, to slow the spin, to regain control. Intending to completely disarm him, she turned around to face him, freeing herself from his grasp. Julia's eyes dropped down to his trousers, the view of the buttons she was targeting pleasantly alternating into and out of her sight in the dim light as William's chest heaved rough and rapid before her. A smile grew on her face. She would enjoy this, teasing him mercilessly, and then gaining the upper hand. The bulge in his trousers ballooned with her touch as she took command of the first button. "Now William, THAT is clearly no trapped little boy, there is no Peter Pan in there," she noted, "THAT is clearly a full-blooded man."

A battle was ensuing within William. Having allowed his mind to jump ahead, to imagine the exquisite feeling of having her take him in her hand, slide around him, surround him and move and hug him tight, he barely heard his own voice warning inside of his head, " _She will find it!_ " The beating in his chest, in his head was so loud, so devastating, he pleaded with all his might to feel her press around him…

There was the heavenly, sought-after touch … but …

"William!" she gasped! "What on Earth!?" she cried, pulling her red feather out from its trap. She held the mangled, clumpy feather up between them, examining it. "I can't believe you would do that!" she exclaimed.

William clamped his lips together and tilted his head – was it an apology, simply an admission!? She held his eyes, her head slowly moving into the rhythm of shaking from side-to-side in disbelief, her mouth once again wide-opened in shock.

He noticed it, the naughty change in her expression. It caused him to immediately surge with playful worry.

"Well then, William Henry Murdoch, tit for tat!" she screeched as she grabbed his bowtie, pulling it from where it hung around his neck.

"No," his lips mouthed and his head shook…

…As Julia thrust his bowtie into her bloomers and gave him a shove. Totally unprepared, he was thrown back, and she ran for it, pulling the door handle with her on her way out. She had made it a few steps into the hallway before she knew he was in pursuit, for she did not hear the door slam behind her. Gleefully she screamed, "William, don't you dare!" as she rounded the hallway corner.

Immediately around the turn she saw their sleeping infant's closed door and she remembered. And guilt hit her so very quickly. And she turned to face William as he rounded the corner behind her, her finger up in front of her lips trying to shush him…

And she saw him, was amazed and confounded by the sight of him, no longer vertical, but somehow horizontal, seemingly midway through a dive, arms out in front of his prone body, appearing to fly – like Peter Pan, for the shortest of moments, before his chest slammed into the floor with a loud thud, and all motion stopped … William having fallen down – because men, and for that matter little boys too, can't run with their pants tangled down around their knees.

Simultaneously the two sounds hit the air – Julia's laughter and the baby's cry. Still giving into her giggles she knelt down to him. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"You mean except for my pride," he responded.

They both looked at the baby's door, agreeing that William should be the one to go in and soothe him so as to avoid having the infant confuse his being startled with it being time to nurse.

Julia waited outside the baby's room loving the beautiful sound of William's voice reassuring their crying son. "Shh, little man… That was just your Mommy and Daddy playing … Hey, hey there. Everything is just fine …"

It was working. The baby's crying subsided quickly, and then Julia stayed to listen as William started working to help the little one fall back to sleep. She heard the beginning of the conversation – about how William wished for his son to have the same good fortune that he had had – to find such a magnificent love as his mother and father had… Truly, it warmed her heart.

She cleaned up, retrieving their various items of clothing from all of their antics, changed into her nightgown, and took the hot chocolate cups downstairs to go into the dishwashing cupboard. She left the red feather soaking in a small dish of soapy water, come what may, and she put the bowtie in the laundry basket to be taken by Eloise to the cleaners along with the rest of his tuxedo.

Her mind flashed an image from the party earlier that evening – of William lighting her cigar, and she laughed out loud. " _Definitely not just a cigar,_ " she thought as she crawled into bed to wait for him.

William and Julia made love that night, after William had tucked the baby back into his crib. Julia had watched him come in, brush his teeth, and then lay out his pajamas. She enjoyed admiring his physique as he removed his trousers and his underwear. She crawled to the edge of the bed, stopping him as he prepared to step into his pajama bottoms. "No need for those," she had said.

Afterwards, when William got up to turn out the light, Julia fell again into laughter. Seeing him naked as a jaybird in nothing but his black socks, she had teased, "Now that outfit has got to be my favorite. It's so … classy." Her heart soared as William let the Peter Pan-side of him take over momentarily, modeling the ensemble for her, complete with a display of his flexed biceps, and he joined with her in merriment at his own expense. And he did truly look so lovely, albeit for the socks.

In the dark, before they succumbed to sleep, they agreed to look for evidence of William's inner little boy in their journals and to go see the play. They got only about an hour's worth of sleep before the baby woke and needed to be nursed. Tomorrow was Sunday. All was good.

#####################

The next afternoon, while William Jr. napped, William and Julia shared their journals in the living room, nestled together on the couch. William had remembered a few entries about his childlike excitement over some of his inventions, like when the scrutiny camera actually worked. Julia had read about the boyish grin he had when he first told her about his lifelong passion for dinosaurs, noting how surprised she was that he was able to hold his understanding and subsequent acceptance of their existence while at the same time being such a devout Catholic. Of course, he had straddled similar contradictions at other times, like when he came to believe that a man could truly love another man in a romantic sense, and that such a love would have to be valued in God's eyes.

And there was an entry Julia had written from when Father Keegan had told the tale of William burning down his shed as he experimented with the bending of sunlight. But that story was from when William actually was a little boy. Thus it did not support the idea that there was a little boy, a Peter Pan-like boy, inside of him as had been suggested at the Montenegro's party.

Julia claimed that she sees the little boy inside of him too, particularly when he marvels at the world, and the amazing things that can be done in it – like when he stared starry-eyed out the window of the Pendrick building, reveling in the near magic of its design, and when he told her about gliding back down to Earth in the flying suit … again with Pendrick. "Actually William," she had realized, "I think James Pendrick brings it out in you."

Then Julia remembered an entry. Excited she rushed to find it in her journal. Her eyes moved back and forth over the page as she checked to see if she was right. "Yes!" she declared, "It actually says, "like a little boy," … but there is much more to it." Her voice took on a warning tone, "It is sad," she said. He nodded. He was prepared. She read:

 **Perhaps it was because I saw him outside of the confines of our work – him not a detective, me not a coroner – of course he would go to the County Fair too? But, more likely it is because I truly, deeply find … that I still love him … particularly the part of him that sparkles with life, with absolute joy, like a little boy discovering the awesome beauty of the world for the first time. That a man who works every day surrounded by the darkest aspects of humanity can be so fully captivated, so completely enthralled, by a scale model of a town … I tell you it tugs so at my heart strings and steals my breath. It took everything I have to hide my feelings for him – from Darcy – and from him – and dare I say, from myself, in order to cope.**

 **How can it be that I must let him go to love him properly? There will be no finer father than him, of that I am certain. And Darcy does not want children. The path is clear. My God I knew it when I saw him wish for a child like the Inspector's son. But I already knew, that I would have to let him go, that I could not be the one to make him happy, when I found the book on his worktable – about the automaton. I even remember the title, "Steam Man of the Plains." I knew the, "gift," William would give was for** _ **her**_ **son, Alwyn, and I knew down in my bones, deep inside my womb, that she could give him what would make him happy and I could not. To this day I feel such shame that I ever even entertained the idea, actually did, let him love me while knowing this truth – keeping this truth from him. The guilt, the shame, the fear of his finding out, of his thinking badly of me, still so shatters my heart.**

 **And now I find myself sitting once again with the nausea of deception. Is it worse to marry a man while lying about loving him and not another? Or was I more sickened by the thought of deceiving a man, the man – the one man I will always love, deceiving him, allowing him to assume that I could mother his child when I knew that I could not? And now I have no choice, for I have let William go, and I should be grateful that I have found another … a good man, who loves me with all of his heart, and who knows me, knows what life with me will mean.**

 **If only I could stop seeing the look in William's eyes as he told me about his excitement, about his discovery… Inviting me to wonder with him – oh how I so wish it could be. The effect of it on my brain, and my heart, and my breathing, and my insides still rocks me to the core. It is like starving, being without him. My God it hurts so. Perhaps it always will. And to keep it a secret, as I must – I will have to find a way to live with the intolerable. Focus on what is at hand. I was happy before I met him and I can be happy now – without him.**

"The word 'ironic' just doesn't seem to cover it," William said after she had closed her journal.

Julia wrinkled up a corner of her mouth, admitting to the pain of her memory, feeling the regret.

"Come here," he said, offering her his lap. Gladly she swung one of her long legs over him, her skirt slipping up to reveal her naked skin in the process. It served to entice him. Passion took them in a rush, like a cold front coming through, creating thunder and lightning, and he took her there – on the couch.

################################

Returning from seeing the play _Peter Pan_ , Julia very much wanted to discuss the play, especially in the light of the conversations they had had at the Montenegro's party the week before. William however, had other plans. He had already removed a good deal of his own clothing and was moving on to remove his wife's as well. All the while he found enticing little spots on her to kiss.

… "And Captain Hook's arm William! Isn't it amazing how far medicine has come? Do you remember taking me to see the man who made that prosthetic arm!?"

"Mm," he answered, starting on her corset.

"To think we have gone from giving a man a _hook_ to actually making something that he can use his own muscles … his own brain…" she stopped briefly due to William's frolicking with his hands about her body having arrived at her breasts, not to mention the explorations with his mouth on her neck … "to control the metal fingers," she finished, now herself a bit out of breath.

He knelt down and she leaned on his shoulder as he removed her shoes. "I really want to thank you William, for sharing so many wonderful things with me…"

"You're welcome," he replied between kissing and sucking on her curvy calf and sliding his hands up to grasp the top of her stockings.

"Our life together really has been like Peter Pan's Neverland – magical and marvelous…" she continued.

"Mm," he agreed. The stockings removed, he stood and pulled off his own undershirt, momentarily silencing her as she appreciated the contours of his chest. Wanting to feel flesh against flesh, skin slipping past skin, he lifted her chemise over her head, and then stepped in to take her into his arms. His hands glided up her back, squeezed her tight, and he kissed down her ear to her neck. "You feel good," he said breathlessly as he gloried in the delicious sliding of the bare, rounded flesh of her breasts, her raised nipples, across his chest as he shifted to ravage the other side of her face and down her neck.

She felt it stirring – lust. And yet, she fought it, her mind so interested in its musings. "I think they were saying something about time …" she said

"Mm," he added, nodding yes, his mouth otherwise full.

"The way the crocodile had the clock ticking in his stomach …" her breath caught in a gasp as he pressed her breasts together and leaned down to bury his face in her cleavage. Her head spun … dizzy, so dizzy, she had to hold on tight around his neck to remain upright, pulling him in closer as she did so, encouraging him, urging him on. " _The clock, the clock … time_ ," she fought to regain her point. Her voice struggled, dry and raspy with growing want, "The ticking seemed to loom ever present, like a warning that time was running out…" she said.

"Mm," he answered, dropping to his knees, his mouth seizing the flesh of her stomach, his fingers searching for the waistband of her bloomers.

She so wanted to tell him what she had figured out – that he, that no man, could really remain a boy forever. Not if they were to become a father as he had. That the responsibilities would be too large, too demanding. But she was taken, as her bloomers dropped away and the cool air enveloped her completely … and then his mouth, so warm and slippery and … perfect, it moved breathtakingly, perfectly, over her. "William," was all she could find to say. Her fingers locked into his hair, twisting and tight as her insides coiled wildly out of control. "Take me to your Neverland," she managed to whisper, to plead, before her knees buckled and she fell down in front of him. Her blue eyes melted into his chocolate-brown heaven.

She would never remember him lowering his underwear and rolling her onto the floor… but she erupted with delight when he covered her, ruptured her, breached her and entered her, pounding into her, driving her over the edge and holding her tight as they both fell into the rhythmical ecstasy of making love. Afterwards, their bodies glowed with the slowing warmth of having been passionately loved.

"Oh my," she teased, "perhaps you really do have some magical Pixie Dust, detective."

Still linked together, his mouth traveled over her face with luscious, cherishing kisses, hesitating to whisper mischievously in her ear, "I guess it turns out in the end, doctor, that there really were green ferries after all."

 _(J.M. Barrie's play,_ _ **Peter Pan; or, the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up**_ _debuted in London in December 1904. A Broadway production was mounted in 1905 and was eventually performed in Toronto)._


	22. Chapter 22Getting All Riled Up

Journal Journeys_Getting All Riled Up

) ( The Carriage Ride to the Fundraiser

"Thank you, William," Julia leaned over in the back of the carriage and whispered into her husband's ear. She was quite aware of his distaste for such fancy parties, and even worse, this one was on a Friday evening, having forced them each to leave work early and rush around frantically to get dressed and head out.

Deciding to say out loud what was on his mind, for the sight of her scrumptiously curved body in this particularly revealing black dress had once again had the effect on him of turning his brain into soup, William replied, "Are you thanking me for not complaining about your choice to wear the _one dress_ that you know brings me to my knees – and thus you also know I fear will bring all the other hot-blooded males at this affair to their knees as well… thus knowing full well that I am destined to spend the entire evening guarding you from their attentions?"

His raised eyebrow and somewhat devilish tone piqued her curiosity. "Husband," she asked, "I cannot tell whether you are looking forward to it or whether you dread it?"

"Nor I," he answered, a smug grin on his face.

She slid closer to him and tucked her arm into his. "Well then, now you know how I feel about you in your tuxedo," she contended.

He wrinkled a corner of his mouth and then smiled when she laughed. The expression had perfectly expressed both, his doubt that it was the same thing, and his admission that women would be attracted to him as well.

"Well, I hope you march around this ball tonight, chest puffed-out with male pride, for _you_ will be the one taking me out of this dress tonight – and I the one taking you out of that gorgeous tuxedo, my husband," she reassured, hoping to light the flame for their lovemaking later that night.

"Perhaps we can leave early?" he asked.

His response surged her with glee, prompting a giggle. "That sounds lovely," she answered him, snuggling even closer.

) ( Welcome to the Museum

Arriving fashionably late, the Murdoch's walked into the museum fundraiser arm-in-arm. Truth be told, they were used to it, but heads did turn. They each knew they were quite well-known, particularly after all of the papers had written about the birth of their baby boy, but Julia figured people also turned to see them simply because of how good-looking William was… She was willing to give, that at least in this dress, she too, would draw and eye. She held back a smile when she thought about how this same reaction from people, that made her so proud, would probably make William uncomfortable. Yes, her husband was modest, truly, deeply, modest, at heart. Her heart did a little flip, feeling her love for him bubbling up inside.

William was keenly aware of the eyes on them. He made himself exhale, stay calm. He heard one man say to another as they passed by, "Well, now someone will die, seeing as the Murdoch's are here."

" _Probably true,_ " he thought. Of course, for many, many reasons, he hoped not. The thoughts barely passed his awareness when he felt his fist tighten. Both of those _gentle_ men had definitely perused Julia up and down! The certainty of it flared in his mind, and he felt his jaw clench. " _Take another breath, William_ ," he coached himself.

Next, some toff or another that Julia knew was introducing them to his wife. Now it was his turn to be ogled, the wife not even trying to cover up her attraction to William, declaring to Julia, "Oh yes, I have followed your handsome husband in the papers since before you were married." She offered William her hand, which he took politely and lifted, giving her his beautiful brown eyes and a nod, to which she added, "So gorgeous and brave… and brilliant." The woman giggled and then turned back to her husband. She met her husband's frown and ducked her eyes away. "You know he invented all those things, Stanley, like the scrutiny camera… And he solved all those hard cases," she explained.

"Yes," Stanley replied.

"And how is your mother – I heard she had broken her hip," Julia interrupted.

Stanley, himself relieved to change the subject, answered something or other about the woman moving in with them and how inconvenient it was…

William lost interest, explored the surrounding area, _noticed her across the room_ , _**Mrs. Riley**_ , with a frantic start! He turned away quickly, a pink flush creeping onto his face. " _Perhaps she won't recognize me_ ," he attempted to soothe himself. His skin felt an odd crawling sensation, and his memories replayed, of being undercover on the House of Industry case, and being taken by surprise when he turned around from inspecting the toff-woman's hutch in the Riley's big, fancy bedroom, having found a loose hinge, turning to inform her, and spotting her stripped-down to her corset and stockings. She had… touched him, made an effort to seduce him…

"Oh, there's Margaret Haile," Julia declared next to him. "I'll be right back, William," she said hurrying away.

He knew she would not be. He scanned the area, anywhere but in the direction of Mrs. Riley. A waiter was close by. He asked for a glass of water. While he waited, he checked to find Julia. She was seemingly enthralled by the conversation she was having, between herself, Miss Haile and a few men. Another deep breath, _she looked happy_. He was glad he had agreed to come. The detective in him consciously observed the various exits, the number of waiters, the locations of the various artifacts.

Upon checking on Julia again, he noticed what appeared to be a more combative mood. Julia surely could get quite riled up when it came to voting rights, but it seemed one of the older men now with her felt rather strongly about them as well. William made himself take another sip of his water, slowed himself down, watched for another moment. His wife was surely presenting her arguments with conviction. He was able to ascertain, even from this distance, that the man had attacked Margaret Haile's decision to run in the election. Julia had risen to the call to be her defender.

William stepped closer, placing his glass down on a nearby waiter's tray. In his mind, he urged himself to let Julia fight her own battles… reminding himself that she did not need to be rescued, for she was quite strong herself.

William had not noticed, as the crowd built up around his wife, and he stood on the periphery, that the Riley's had come to stand next to him to watch the show. Earlier, Mr. Riley had been titillated by the attractive woman now arguing, felt the jolt right down to his groin. Concerned that his wife might have noticed his sexual reaction, he had looked to Candace only to find she was drooling over the woman's husband – the same man they now stood next to.

Perhaps it was because Charles Riley had seen his own wife's interest in this man when the good-looking couple had first walked in, or because it was just plain annoying to have a man stand by and let his own wife mouth-off like that. Or, maybe he was jealous, that this man who had attracted _his_ wife _also_ got to go home to bed each night with such a luscious woman as that one. Whatever the reason, he didn't like him, and Charles Riley was irritated, and impatient, and as Candace Riley could certainly tell you, when he felt this way he became confrontational.

For his part, William was fascinated and distracted by Julia in that moment, the strong, defiant protrusion of her chin, and the honed in focus of her beautiful, big blue eyes. She was a remarkable woman, and he couldn't believe she was his wife. A sigh slipped out of him, and he reminded himself to thank Go…

"Get some control of your wife, man," the toff standing next to him barked, pulling William out of his thoughts.

Making a noble effort to hide his discomfort with having turned to discover that it was the Riley's, of all people, standing next to him, William did not censure his words as he otherwise might have. Thus, he sounded judgmental and antagonistic when he replied, "I will no more do so to my wife than I would try to stop _you_ from speaking out against a law you feel is unfair, whether I agree with you or not. However, as it turns out, Mr. Riley, I _do_ agree with my wife."

Mr. Riley's voice became loud and he stepped in towards William sticking out his chest aggressively, drawing the attention of almost everyone at the fundraiser, when he steamed, "It is men like you that let them think they can behave this way that causes the whole mess. Put her in her place, man! Wear the trousers, for God's sake!"

The ruckus set off the crowd, and debates sprang up in all corners.

Surprisingly quickly, Julia joined them. "William," she said, receiving a quick nod from her husband. She turned her attention to the couple speaking with William, then more particularly to the man. "Dr. Julia Ogden," she said, offering him her hand.

He took it and raised it in the air politely. "Mr. Charles Riley," he offered and then turned to his wife and added, "and my wife, Candace Riley." The two women nodded to each other. Oddly, Mrs. Riley slid her eyes up and down Julia's body.

Instantly, the heat in the room surged making William blush. " _Sizing up the competition_ ," he thought to himself with alarm.

Mr. Riley turned to William and asked, "And you must be Mr. Ogden?" offering his hand for a manly handshake.

More firmly than he would normally do so, William gripped the man's hand. Out of the corner of his eye, William noticed that now it was Julia who squirmed uncomfortably. She would not like him needing to explain that his wife did not take his name when they had married. She felt a bead of sweat pearl under her corset.

William's brown eyes dropped from the man's briefly before they pierced back into his eyes and he said, still holding the man's hand, his hold tight, almost threatening, "Dr. Ogden is my wife, but I am Detective William Murdoch, of the Toronto Constabulary." He noticed to his side, Mrs. Riley took a gasp. _She would soon be putting things together,_ his mind rushed to think, her reaction a certain clue that she had recognized him from before, that she was figuring out he had not been a House of Industry man after all.

With an arrogant tone, shoving his nose up in the air as the handshake broke off, Mr. Riley quipped, "Oh of course, she wouldn't even take your name…"

Immediately taking offense, both William and Julia stood up taller. Julia opened her mouth and started to protest, "Mr. Rile…"

But the man had already changed the subject, now addressing William more directly, "And how is it that you know me, Detective Murdoch?"

Now it was William who fidgeted with all their eyes upon him. He cleared his throat, sub-consciously glanced at Mrs. Riley, then Julia. "I, uh…" he tried, cleared his throat again.

In an effort to save herself, Mrs. Riley interrupted, "Oh, I believe it is more me than you Charles, who Detective Murdoch recognized…"

 _As George would say, William just about laid an egg!_

William fought to keep the rising panic within him concealed, audibly sighing with relief when the woman continued, avoiding telling what had actually happened when they first met. "The detective here came by the house to ask some questions," she said, "… about the men doing work around the house for us. It um, it seems…"

William took it from there, "We were told that one of the men who had done work for you knew a victim…" he cleared his throat again, moved his eyes from Mr. Riley to Julia, "A victim of a crime we were investigating." Glancing back at Mrs. Riley's husband, who still looked unconvinced, William added, "I knew what you looked like, uh, from the photos… um, in your home. I, uh… I have a very good memory…" his voice tapered off as he finished, feeling self-conscious about bragging, "…for that sort of thing," he concluded.

Although Julia knew it was true, William's memory was photographic and phenomenal, something was off about the whole exchange, and she was troubled by it. Now, however, was not the time to investigate the matter.

"I see," Mr. Riley said. "Well, Detective, I still…"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Master of Ceremonies spoke loudly over the din, "Could I please have your attention. We will be beginning the presentation shortly. Please join me in offering a show of our appreciation to the benefactors of this project, Mr. and Mrs. Collin Smythe." Applause filled the room. The two couples nodded goodbye to each other and went their separate ways.

Julia took a glass of wine from a passing waiter. She took a sip and leaned closer to William. Keeping her eyes forward on the speaker, she said coyly, "You have some explaining to do, it seems, detective."

Confidently, William leaned over, his eyes forward as well, he reminded her about working undercover while she was away at a conference. "You'll remember Julia, there was a big mess at Stationhouse #5. A journalist was killed, and a constable, and I went to investigate as a man down on my luck, at the House of Industry," he explained, glancing sideways at her to see if she remembered.

"Yes… and Candace Riley," she pushed, taking another sip of wine, not looking at him.

This was going to be more complicated than he had thought, and William grew worried. His mind raced, considering what he could say that would make sense, and whether it was best to just tell her the truth.

"Perhaps we could discuss it later," he asked.

Julia's smile betrayed her trust in him. "Of course," she said. " _There was something, though,_ " she thought as she turned to see a friend approaching.

"Dr. Ogden… Good evening detective," the woman said. She turned back to Julia, "Could I steal you away for a moment. There's someone I'd like you to meet," she asked.

"You go," William said with a warm smile.

Julia gave William a kiss on the cheek, knowing even such a little peck would likely embarrass him. "Thank you William," she whispered. "I won't be long," she promised before the two women took their leave.

The presentation finished and William decided to enjoy some of the various artifacts on display. Candace Riley found him, somewhat alone, in front of a display case and approached him. She pretended to be looking at the display, but said to William quietly, seductively, "I still have a bedroom fixture needing your attention."

A frown appeared on his face. " _Great!_ " he complained in his head. William checked around for Mr. Riley, figuring she wouldn't be so bold as to proposition him while within view of her husband.

"He went to the bar with some acquaintance or another," she hurried to explain. " _Probably finding himself a floozy_ ," she thought under her breath. Moving closer to her hunky quarry, so that their arms touched, she reached over with her hand, shielded by the display case in front of them, and glided her fingers firmly over the contours of William's stomach her fingers sliding slowly over the silky fabric of his cummerbund, just above his trousers. "I believe you could come by tomorrow afternoon and help me screw it in tight," she enticed.

William's body had electrified with panic and he clenched his jaw fighting the urge to shove the woman. He held his control, avoided making a seen, lifted her hand off of his body, moved it away. "I will do no such thing Mrs. Riley," he replied through gritted teeth. He was becoming angry. Risking being detected, he turned and glared into her eyes. He saw it, with relief, she understood that her advances were unwanted.

Her pride demanded a saving of face, and she stepped back trying to find a way to do so. "Of course, detective…"

"You would have no way of knowing, so I will tell you. I am a very happily married man, and I have no intention of straying from my wife," he had softened. "I hope you understand," he added, his eyes now warmer, kinder.

"Of course," she said, offering her hand for him to kiss and then she sauntered away as nonchalantly as possible.

Fortunately for William, the exhibits were thoroughly intriguing, for Julia was, as he predicted, off fighting for her causes for quite a long time indeed. He had last seen her with the same man she had argued with earlier, and another, and from the looks of things, she was making headway. Now, however, he noticed he did not see her around, not in the nearby vicinity anyway.

" _Perhaps another glass of water_ ," he suggested to himself to help pass the time. He stretched up, searching for a waiter. Thus, it surprised him when there was suddenly one right behind him.

"Detective Murdoch?" the waiter asked.

"Yes," William replied.

"A note for you sir," the waiter said, handing William a piece of folded-up white paper.

" _Julia?_ " he questioned as he opened it. _It was on museum letterhead – not her handwriting…_

"Thank you," he told the waiter, quickly adding before the man walked away, "Uh, who gave it to you?" He lifted his eyes to the waiter before having a chance to read much more.

"Sorry sir," the waiter explained, "I was given it by one of the kitchen staff," he apologized knowing the detective would have liked to have known who it was from.

"Thank you," William answered, making note of the man's features in case he found the need to inquire further. He re-focused on the note. It said that the writer of the note had overheard a conversation that implicated someone in planning to rob the museum during the fundraiser. William was to meet the informant in the coat room so that no one would see them talking.

He sighed. _Could he never just go to a party as a regular citizen?_ he complained in his mind. Truth be told, though, he did feel the thrill of the chase charging up. He started working on the case in his mind. _First off, the coatroom would be a place that would offer privacy this time of year – no one likely wore a coat here tonight. Further, someone who worked here at the museum would have thought to use the coatroom – AND have been in a situation to overhear such a thing, so, William was thinking the author of the note might be the_ _ **same**_ _person who handed it to the waiter, in the kitchen…_

William asked the guard at the main entrance where the coatroom was located, being told it was just around the corner there on the left. The door was large, closed, but it consisted of a top and a bottom section, the bottom section having a protrusion much like a shelf. When he tuned the doorknob and pushed, the two sections opened as one.

The coatroom was dark, only the light from the hallway streaming in through the doorway illuminating across the tiny room to the back wall. Knowing stealth included being quick, hoping not to be seen, William closed the door right away, then fumbled around along the wall where he had spotted the switch to turn on the light. _Click_ , the light went on.

Surprisingly, there were quite a few coats hanging on the abundant racks in the coatroom, he noticed. A musty smell suggested they had been there a long time, and did not belong to this evening's guests. On first look, it seemed he had arrived before the informant. He decided to explore further, checking between some of the coats on his left.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck with the brushing sound behind him. _Someone else was in here!_ An inaudible gasp and William spun around to see, standing between himself and the only exit – Mrs. Riley… once again, nearly naked!

"Mrs. Riley," William reprimanded, "I really must insist you stop this…"

"Come now… _Mr. Weldon_ ," she teased hurrying forward, using his undercover name from before, flinging her arms around his neck.

) ( Back Outside at the Party

Julia held the man's eyes as she looked over the rim of her wineglass to take a sip. _Congratulations were in order_ , she thought to herself, having accomplished getting him to admit to some of her points.

Mr. Riley suddenly appeared and interrupted, "Doctor… Dr. Ogden… Where is..." He suddenly realized he was being rude, then seemed to decide he did not care. He leaned closer to her, trying to keep his question more… private. "Where is your husband?" he asked.

His tone annoyed her, she had not had time to consider why. Immediately, she began to look around the area searching for William. She realized it had been quite some time since she had actually seen him. "I'm not sure, Mr. Riley," she answered while still stretching and turning to better check the area.

The man suddenly became enraged. "He's with my wife!" he fumed.

" _Preposterous!_ " she thought to herself. "I doubt it," she insisted, shaking her head with a disbelieving giggle at the absurdity of his suggestion.

"They are _**both**_ not here, doctor," he demanded, his fingers curled up into fists. He turned to leave, clearly in a rush to find the guilty couple.

Julia followed. "I'm sure that what you are implying, Mr. Riley, is **not** the case!" she barked, feeling her own level of rage rising. _How dare he_ … her brain raged as she marched along to keep up with the man.

A waiter said he had seen the detective going towards the main entrance… alone.

) ( Back In the Coatroom

Mrs. Riley's forward manner had taken William by surprise, and, as a result, it seemed the woman had gained the upper-hand. _"_ Come on detective, cooperate with me,"she said in between kisses.

She had already handily undone his bowtie. _It had happened so quickly!_ Everything William imagined doing to stop her threatened to also hurt her – shove, push, even hit or kick, all would have caused her physical damage. His need to be a gentleman seemed to be rendering him helpless in her onslaught. The collar button went! Her lips on his mouth…

Unwilling to be too aggressive, William stepped backwards, trying to back away. His back hit a wall with a thud. Another button popped. They were practically sandwiched between two rows of coats. Mrs. Riley pushed in against him, hard, her fingers moving lower to the next button.

The alarms in his head blared. He found her hips, secured his hands in place, then gave her a push. She only leaned in and pressed harder against him. Her breathing raced.

"Take off your shirt," she instructed between kisses.

"No," he insisted, his jaw tightening, anger rising. He pushed her back more assertively, finding there was suddenly the slightest bit of space between them. He could see her face now.

"No one says no to me – not if they know what's good for them. Now, take off your shirt!" her indignant order came. Her eyes glared, matched by William's. She took a deep breath, softened… then stepped close again, began fumbling with his trousers, under cummerbund,

"No, Mrs. Riley," William asserted, grabbing a hold of her hand.

She shook it free – gave William a warning stare.

 _He really just couldn't believe it!_

She planted a kiss on his mouth, shoved her slimy tongue into him.

He struggled, pushing against her, turned his head away. _Absolutely astounding_ , he felt her hand behind his back. In one fell swoop, his cummerbund was undone!

"Mrs. Riley! Stop it now!" William yelled as he stepped over to the side, mushing into the coats.

The piranha followed. She wasn't letting go! Her body, heavy into his again… the smell of the coats all around, covered and drowned out by her suffocating perfume. Her lips, breath, in his ear. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach. She leaned into him with all of her weight.

"Come now detective, I wouldn't want to have to tell your moneybags wife why you _**really**_ saw my husband's pictures in my house…"

 _My God!_ He jolted with her threat. She kissed him again, first his jaw, then his lips. Her fingers on the lower button of his shirt… She moved off his lips.

 _He would slam her backwards! He swore it! He didn't care if she got hurt!_

Her teeth nipped his jaw, then she said, "I just love a man with a square jaw…"

William shoved her – hard, pushing her back into the coats. He wiggled free. "There's nothing to tell! You propositioned me!" he asserted, sounding desperate.

"We made passionate love that day, I'm sure you remember Mr. Weldon, err, I mean detective. Don't deny it…"

 _So utterly shocked_ , William rushed to consider the scenarios in his mind. _Julia would believe me, I'm sure she'd believe me…_

"Your shirt," the blood-sucking woman reminded with a whisper, leaning back into him.

) ( Just Outside

Breaking into a run, Julia raced down the hall behind the crazed Mr. Riley. He had already reached the coatroom door – hurled it open…

Right there in front of him, in plain view, the detective was having his way with _**HIS wife**_! She was nearly naked! In his arms… _Well at least he was in hers?_

Julia ran into Mr. Riley's back, halting with the sight. The woman was… unclothed! William… William was in a state of semi-undress as well, without a cummerbund, tie undone, shirt partially undone. _She needed more time! She needed more time to figure this out!_

With amazing speed, Mrs. Riley filled the gasped and gaping silence. Suddenly terrified, terribly upset, she shrieked, jumping away from William, "He attacked me, Charlie. Dragged me in here…" she fell into sobs, ran to her husband, jumped into his arms. Crying into his neck she blubbered, "It was so awful!"

Oh, the man became dangerously riled up! Outraged, red-faced…

William held his hands out in front of himself, his head shaking 'no' violently…

Riley's voice harbored a serious rage. "Detective Ogden, Mud-Rock, whatever your goddamn name is! Outside!" Riley bellowed.

William stepped forward, still defending himself with his denials. "Mr. Riley… you have the wrong ide…"

The landed punch walloped into William's gut, bending him in half. Riley grabbed William's collar, straightened him up and slammed him backwards into the wall, then coiled back his arm preparing for a massive punch, his eyes honed in on William's jaw…

William swung with a right punch, seemingly out of nowhere, knocking Riley back. He stepped forward in pursuit of the man.

"William!" Julia yelled, "Don't." She was confused, she knew that, but she knew one thing for sure, she didn't want to see her husband get involved in a brawl. And she was even more sure of something else – there was no way in hell _William Murdoch_ attacked this woman, absolutely, positively, no way.

Seeing the sense in Julia's plea, William halted. The two men's eyes burned into each other, each huffing for breath.

A trouble-maker to the core, Riley chose that moment to mock William. "So, you do whatever _your wife_ tells you to do then. Oh, I forgot. _She's_ the one with the money… _**and the trousers**_. Of course, you need to go along. Hmm? I bet she's goddamn _**icy**_ in the bedroom though – explains why you need to get some heat from **my wife**!" Riley seemed to be revving up for a fight again.

 _Insulting him, insulting Julia!_ William saw red.

Julia took a hold of William's arm. Not a word passed their lips, but they shared a look. He watched her… beseech him. Her magnificent, big blue eyes, like pools of water, cooling, putting out the fires, like a beacon in a storm, she guided him to the shore. She took a deep breath, begged for him to do so too – to calm down.

Suddenly, he remembered!

"Wait!" William exclaimed. "She sent me a note," he blurted out. His hand already in his pants pocket, he added, "Here, here…" William pulled out the white note and turned to address Mr. Riley, "To get me to come in here… See for yourself," he said.

Riley snatched the note from William's hand.

Julia felt an opening, comprehension flooding in. She had been totally dumbfounded, speechless. Her mind raced to remind her of what she had almost done, had planned to do, only moments ago. She had almost run forward to defend William, _had had an image of jumping up on Mr. Riley's back and slugging him with all her might._

As Riley opened the note William leaned forward, the pain in his stomach screaming at him, his lungs burning, he was immensely out of breath, heaving and panting. He watched as Riley started reading the note. He turned to look at Julia.

William's beautiful eyes pleaded with her so. He so wanted her to believe him.

"Julia," he said, standing up taller. "I, uh… Julia…"

Charles Riley recognized his wife's handwriting on the note – immediately _he knew the goddamn bitch had done it again._

It seemed Candace Riley's body flew backwards and hit the floor with a scream before William even heard the smack of her husband's hand against the woman's face. The sonic boom from the breaking of the sound barrier rung violently in his ears. So instantly, with not a moment's warning, rage had erupted within him. His wrath was unleashed so quickly he would never remember taking the two steps to reach man. Savagely, brutally, William began to beat Mr. Riley to a pulp!

Julia had seen it before, when the man from the Black Hand had threatened Ana Fulford, at some baseball game William had been playing, and William had pummeled away at the man until others could pull him off. She was certain, then, that William would have killed the man. She was certain now as well.

Having to stop him, it was _**William**_ that Julia would attack that night, not Mr. Riley, after all. She surged forward. "William," she yelled at the top of her lungs, "William! Stop it!"

Before Julia could grab a hold of William's arm, she was shoved aside from behind. " _Security guards! They were security guards!"_ she recognized. Gratefully, two men pushed into the coatroom and grabbed a hold of William – pulled him off of Mr. Riley.

 _Oh, thank God! Mr. Riley was still conscious!_ Julia ran to the bleeding man, the doctor in her seeming to be the only part of her that could take control in the emergency.

The guards pinned William against the wall. He identified himself as Detective Murdoch and they let go. Mr. Riley had a broken jaw and a broken nose, but he made it clear he had no intention of pressing charges against William. Unfortunately, reporters had been there, and a cameraman had taken some flash photos. They would surely be in the papers. William had spotted Mabel Merton, and so there was some hope, at least that the _Toronto Daily Star_ , would be fair to them. As soon as possible, the Riley's headed off to a hospital, the Murdoch's headed home.

)( The Carriage Ride Home

It was taking nearly every ounce of strength he had _not_ to fall apart, and once he felt the seat of the carriage underneath him, once he had all those eyes _off_ of him, the degree of relief was palpable. Only... the most important two eyes in the whole world were still on him, _Julia's_ , and his body had fallen into shaking with the effort to hold it together. He wanted one thing right now, one thing in all the world, needed it desperately – to be alone.

 _(Unbeknownst to William, he was being crushed by his shame, and it was this shame, this unbearable need to hide himself from view, that so fiercely drove this need of his to get away, to hide, to be alone)._

Completely unable to look at her, William's eyes stayed down. Reticent and apologetic, he pushed himself, hard, to speak, finally saying, his voice incredibly low, "Sorry I… your reputation will be in tatters."

Quickly her reply came, wanting so desperately to reassure him, "William," she softly scolded, "you know I don't care about such things."

She watched him sigh, drop his head lower with defeat. Blood-spatter sprinkled his white shirt, now buttoned back up to the top. His cummerbund and bowtie, absent. A quick flash ran through her mind, of their flirtations in the carriage ride to this very event. _He had suggested they go home early…_

"That Candace Riley is quite something, I'll give her that," she said, hoping to align herself with him, to pull him out of his despairing mood.

"I don't want to talk about it Julia," he answered.

He did not see it, but his wife's jaw tightened. The whole situation infuriated her… and she knew _not_ talking about it certainly wouldn't help. She turned away, looked out the carriage window.

William felt terribly shaky, barely on the verge of staying in control. So many horrible flashes played across his mind – over and over – repulsing him. He felt dizzy, and nauseous... sweaty with dread. " _Think of something else_ ," he coached himself to try to cope. " _Listen to the sound of the hoof-beats on the street… the wheels rattling. It's the bearings, it probably has rollerbearing axels, that make the whole thing work_ …" William forced himself to be distracted, to focus on something, anything, else besides Candace Riley's body and her sickly smell on him, her disgusting tongue in his mouth, or the stabbing pain of the unexpected punch landing in his stomach, or the blinding, popping, flashes of the cameras as he stepped out of the coatroom, or worst of all, his own livid hammering into the body of Charles Riley.

Later, feeling he had better mastered his feelings, he apologized again.

Julia's response began with an exasperated exhale, "What for?!" she demanded, turning quickly to face him, her blue eyes searing into his.

Rattled, William heard her anger. He fought the urge to cringe.

Julia, too, heard it in her own voice, she was furious – _BUT not with him_ , and she tried to remind herself that it was essential to keep calm, for she clearly saw her beautiful husband's reaction to her fury, but she couldn't. Her emotions had taken her, and her voice rose to a higher and higher breathless octave as she tiraded through her speech.

"William," her stern voice started, only to lose all handle on control, " _You_ are the victim here, not Candace Riley. You were lured into that coatroom…" her voice took on its customary upset squeak with her lecture, her hands flapping about and her lovely blond curls bouncing and dancing up and down…

 _A part of William stole away with how unbelievably beautiful she was, and how remarkable and rare she was, and how he really, really, needed to thank God again for bringing her to him…_

 _But, Julia had gone on, and William's eyes had grown wide, the rest of him hanging on her every word as if the lifesaver had been thrown into the water and somehow he had managed to grab a hold of it._

"You have the note prove it, for Christ's sake!" Julia's voice cracked with the height of its pitch, and because she needed so desperately to take a breath, which she did not do, so her squeaking rose even more, and her face blossomed into a pink blush. "She all but admitted it! That's why he hit her… In front of everyone William! He smacked her – knocked her to the floor. It was _you_ who rose to her defense – _You_! the man she had accused of _attacking_ her." She was so enraged now her jaw had jutted up into the air and locked so rigidly in place that it affected the sound of the words as she spoke them.

Both of them used her pause, needing to take a breath before her head exploded, not only to breathe, but to also lower the pressure before she went on.

 _He noticed she still had a squeak._

"And Mr. Riley, beaten to pulp William…"

Another pause, this one re-triggered William's heart for he knew she was remembering his loss of control. Shame flooded in, for he had nearly killed the man… he thought it possible he would have if Julia hadn't stopped him, if others weren't there to pull him off…

She saw the shift in his eyes, on some level recognized the shame, but she first responded to the anger it surged inside of her, that such horrible people could cause her beautiful William such pain. The squeakiness of her voice lowered with the power of that anger and she concluded, "If my friends – our acquaintances - don't understand that, then they don't deserve our friendship," ending with a defiant bounce in her seat as an exclamation point.

If she weren't sitting in a carriage, if she had been standing during her speech, he knew her hands would have been on her hips. Still, he noticed that magnificent lifting of her chin, and that confidence and strength that thrilled him to the core. He felt better. He took a breath. She was right. And she was _with him_. And he knew that as long as she was with him, they would be fine. _**But…**_

… _memories flooded, and somehow ruptured his solace and he felt the wave roll him over and his mind followed weakly the path… All those_ _ **eyes on him**_ _. He re-heard in his mind, Candace's sultry voice ordering it again, "No one says no to me – not if they know what's good for them..._ _ **Take off your shirt**_ _." Then William felt her_ _ **on him again**_ _… And then he was just pounding Riley into the ground with such primal_ _ **rage**_ _– complete abandon… and still,_ _ **all those eyes**_ _…_

A bump in the road, jarring the carriage, shaking him out of it. And then Julia's beautiful face, mouth agape. He saw her worry. _Had he shocked her? Did she think badly of him?_ The world quaked and tremored from within.

His expression tore at her heartstrings – she rushed to grasp its meaning. _Was he relieved or… about to cry?_

William pushed pass the barrage of his emotions and asked her, "You believe me then?"

With that, it clicked in Julia's brain, the connection opening her up, a breath of relief surging out of her. " _It's like with Ettie Weston, when he secretly stayed with her in Winnipeg, and I found the condom in his undercover hobo coat! He's worried that I think he betrayed me!_ " her mind explained it in a deluge of discovery. _Of course, that would explain his extreme distress. We had such a horrific fight about it… My God, I even slapped him – but…_ Julia took another deep breath… _thank goodness, such a thing is not going to be a problem now. I know I'll be able to reassure him – to fix it. I know beyond any doubt – I knew it even before an explanation had been offered, that he was only, ever, true._

Their eyes had already revealed it to each other, but still Julia promised, reassured, that she had every faith that he had done nothing to invite Mrs. Riley's attentions.

William folded over with relief, tilting into her arms. Julia reached up and slipped her fingers into his hair. _My God! She loved this man so!_ She held his head to her cheek… kissed his ear tenderly, while he held onto her.

 _Fighting tears_ , William felt it almost with a profound panic, he was fighting against collapsing into tears. " _Why? Why would I cry? It makes no sense. We just worked it out!_ " William's brain attempted reason…

The couple remained in their embrace, Julia deepening the hug, wrapping her other arm around his waist, hugging him even tighter. She bathed him, covered him, with the loving, warm, precious care that he had so yearned for, yet William was finding it so terribly, terribly painful for some reason. He felt undeserving…

 _(For so much of his young life had been spent building inner-strength, not needing to be cared for. There had been no one who thought him worthy of such care anyway, once his mother was gone)._

…and it seemed to come with the shame. He held her in the hug longer, and longer, with the hope she would not see… that he had teared-up.

Julia sensed it however, worried to herself, " _He hasn't taken a breath_ …" and she knew he was holding back – she knew he had become choked-up. She would stay there with him for all eternity if need be. But, she was puzzled. " _He had had such an astounding overreaction tonight… Lost control and beat that bastard, Riley, silly. Now he's falling apart… crying… What's going on?"_ she wondered, she worked to figure out…

"Breathe William," she whispered calmly in his ear.

Instantly, he yielded, took a breath, his airflow jagged, and disjointed, betraying his state.

Compassion and confusion and concern cascaded over her as he succumbed to his need to cry. She kissed his ear. "Everything's alright," she whispered, her body rhythmically, subtly, swaying his, catching and riding the motion of the carriage to soothe him as best she could, "Everything's fine." She took a deep breath, felt her body meld deeper into his, felt his give way and soften in response. "Shh," her whisper rolled down over him and covered him. "It's alright, William," she said once more, relieved to feel him breathe again, calmer, deeper. Her fingers caressed his scalp, her perfect voice in his ear, "It's alright."

) ( Finally Home

Fairly well recovered from his overflow of emotions by the time they pulled up to the house, William paid the carriage driver and they crossed the threshold of their home. Their nanny, having had been sitting reading in the warm glow of the living-room light, walked around the corner into the foyer to greet them.

"Claire-Marie," Julia nodded at her, "We're home a little early," she explained.

William, too, gave her a smile and a nod. The young woman's eyes traveled down to William's blood-sprinkled shirt, shooting his heart with worry. He so did not wish to explain.

" _She'll read about it in the papers soon enough_ ," Julia thought, trying to decide how much to disclose. She cleared her throat, both of the others lifting their eyes to hers with her call. "We ran into a spot of trouble," she said. "But everything turned out alright in the end," she concluded confidently.

Changing the subject, she asked, "And how was William Jr.?" Out of her periphery, Julia smiled to herself warmly when she noticed William exhale his relief as Claire-Marie moved on and began to describe the evening with the baby. After becoming quickly enticed into conversation about their six-month old son, and how well-behaved the infant boy is, and how he happily drank up his bottled milk, and how holding him out flat with your arm under his stomach – as if he were hanging on a tree-branch like a little monkey – helped to stop him from crying, just like she had said it would, and she was sure there was much, much, more, Julia realized that she had let herself get carried away.

Suddenly, she remembered the awful night they had had – William had had. She glanced at her astoundingly patient husband, who himself on some level seemed to be enjoying the "baby" conversation as much as she was, but on another level looked thoroughly exhausted. An apologetic smile curled on her lips. Turning back to the young woman she sighed, "We should head up, I think," signaling to Claire-Marie that it was time for her to go over to her adjoining quarters. They thanked her and said goodnight.

Upstairs in their bedroom, Julia closed the door behind them, the click of the door bringing an immediate sigh of relief to them both with the safety its privacy provided. Julia knew he was still terribly vulnerable, would be seeking comfort, but not wanting to bring back up all of the horrors of the night. She opened her arms to him, inviting him closer and he stepped into her hug.

Now in their own familiar surroundings, the potency of Candace Riley's overwhelming perfume wreaked havoc on the senses, making it impossible not to have oneself flung back into the turmoil of the whole ordeal. Julia pushed back a little, brought her eyes to his, only briefly, finding intense pain there, she looked away hoping to stop the re-emergence of his intense reactions. _He needed some time to better recover before confronting the demons more directly_ , she thought.

Her eyes had fallen down onto a red smudge on his collar. " _Not blood… lipstick_ ," she heard her own brain thinking, " _She had put her lips there, kissed him there._ " Images flickered in her mind, re-seeing William just after she had burst into the coatroom behind Mr. Riley, his shirt undone… Candace Riley shrieking and accusing… Julia reached up, her fingers tracing out the stain.

Regret seeped into William once more. He wrinkled his face, told her with his expression he was sorry, so very, very sorry.

She reminded him that he was innocent – she knew it in her bones. She advised him to take a shower, encouraged him that it would make him feel better. She would take care of the baby – feed him while William showered and cleaned up. She gave a him a petal-soft kiss, then took her leave.

A huge sigh, he was finally alone. William stripped down, threw the bloody shirt in the trash pan by Julia's vanity, thought maybe the rest of the tuxedo could be salvaged. " _Julia was right, a shower would help… get the_ _ **stink of her off**_ _of him,_ " he thought, feeling his jaw clench with anger again. His bare feet feeling the cold tile floor of the bathroom, his eyes down on the toothbrushes by the sink. _Stuck…_ he was stuck, for a moment.

He felt it all over again – like it was really happening – right this very second – to him again… Candace Riley's perfume, the musty smell of the coats, her mushy body pressing into his, her tongue invading his mouth. _Instantly motion!_ The toothbrush was in his hand, the taste of the minty-clean toothpaste in his mouth. He scrubbed so hard his gums bled, the creamy-pink frothy spit swirled down the drain.

Having set the water temperature to be incredibly hot, he basked in the burn of the scalding, pounding, water, imagined the smell of her, and her slimy touches, burning away, evaporating off of him with the steam and the fog and the mist, dissipating, floating away. His burden grew lighter. _He would be alright. He was fine._

For Julia, being with their baby, nursing him, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, so much like his father's, had grounded her. So magnificent it was that she and William had this unexpected, amazing baby. Their blessings offered a profound balance against their hardships, and when she returned to their bedroom later, the sound of his shower running over him in the bathroom piped to her ears as reassuring, and she knew they would be alright.

Wisely, Julia considered what exact affronts William had likely encountered with Candace Riley that evening, thinking she would avoid doing those same things right now. She remembered what the woman was wearing when they had first run into the coatroom, just her bodice and corset. _Oddly, a quick flash of her own younger sister, Ruby, wearing merely that exact same thing, back when William had found her in the ceiling vent at the bank so many years ago, her sister confessing the tale to her in the morgue afterwards, the tangential image sputtered by_. For now, however, she went back to tonight, imagined what that dastardly woman, _Candace Riley – her mind said it with a sneer,_ had likely done to William. Julia envisioned it, the woman pushy, aggressive, seductive, she would have approached him, put her arms around his neck, wiggled her body against his, kissed him, undressed him. Julia very consciously would make sure not to do these same things, for she knew they would likely trigger her husband if she did. There was a wondering however, _she had pushed it away_ , about why William didn't resist more strongly – perhaps she was uncomfortable with the danger of blaming him.

A deep breath, Julia soldiered on, planning. He was naked, so she would be too. She took off all her clothes, decided not to put on her nightgown. Herself naked, Julia stood at the sink brushing her teeth, watching in the mirror, glimpsing at his shadow as it moved on the blurried and rippled shower curtain behind her. The water turned off… She rinsed her mouth, wanting to be ready. The shower curtain rings slid along the silver pole. She averted her eyes, made herself busy taking pins out of her hair. William would be stepping out, drenched. She took a deep breath, she needed to be careful, but confident, _not_ walk on eggshells. A glance in the mirror, he had a towel, was drying his midsection.

Taking another plush, fluffy towel from the rack, Julia turned to face him and opened it up wide and reached up towards William's dripping, black hair. "Feel better?" she asked as he tilted his head into her soft towel accepting her offer of kindness.

"I do," he replied simply. Her fingers pressed in through the terrycloth, the sensations on his scalp exquisite, soothing, massaging deep into him. He yielded to the pleasure of it with a subtle, quiet moan.

Her heart grew warmer and warmer with each stroke. She so very much loved him. Still rubbing, she leaned her lips closer to his ear and said, "I love you William Murdoch. You do know that, don't you?"

He gave the tiniest chuckle, the vibrations stifled in the comfy fabric of the towel, for the answer was obvious. Under the towel, he nodded, bowed slightly. "I do," he replied, then echoing her response from when they had proposed to each other he added, "Very much, I do."

His answer prompted a small giggle, from her this time, as she reveled in the warm waves of the flares glowing in her heart. Finished, she stepped back to the sink to let him complete the rest of the drying for himself, feigning having more to do with her hair.

"How's the baby?" he asked.

"Miraculous and wonderful," she replied, her happiness warming him to the core. The couple shared a grateful look in the mirror, misted in the steam.

William placed his used towel back on the rack next to the one she had used for his hair. She spotted him looking at himself in the foggy mirror. His hand explored his stomach, triggering her memory of him receiving the punching blow earlier, collapsing him forward, knocking the wind out of him. _He would be remembering it too,_ she knew.

"You won't see the bruising till tomorrow," she advised.

He took a deep breath, with a wrinkled 'admitting it' smile, having had failed in keeping his mind off of his troubles.

Wanting to spare him delving back into the stressful events of the evening, Julia changed the subject, "Tomorrow's Saturday. We can sleep in, nothing planned."

He replied with his usual, "Good," and a quick nod.

She took him to bed right away, them both remaining bare-skinned, knowing the sheer joy and healing that would come with the succulent sensations of their soft skin slipping and sliding along each other's curves and contours as they moved together. Lights out, darkness seeped in peacefully. Julia guided William's head to her breasts, he rested its weight down on her softness. They lay holding each other, her stroking his hair, his ear, his face, until, surprisingly quickly, he drifted off to sleep.

It was with quite a startle that he bolted upright, only about an hour later, in the pitch blackness of night, after his nightmare. It had been awful, disgusting, revolting, and so very strange…

 _William, and someone else…_ there was someone else _, were on some sort of public stage, in front of a vast, unseen audience. The stage-lights were sickeningly blinding and hot, making him sweat. Suddenly, jerking him with a jump, George was thrown to the floor!_ Was that a gun cocking?

 _Just then, William noticed, a breeze announcing it, he was bare-chested, only afterwards hearing the skin-curdling voice in his ear commanding, "Take off your shirt." Behind him, breathing, lurking, drooling, someone cruel, behind him. He sees it, the shadow first, on his skin. His skin begins to bubble-up, dewing with the cold panicked sweat of his horror, growing pinker and pinker in color, and then becoming flakey, salmon-like in texture, before he watches in terror as his skin loses its integrity, morphs into a gooey, goopy substance._

 _Someone – an enemy – an evildoer – dips a finger into his chest, on what would be his pectoral muscle, if it were rigid enough, hard enough, to offer resistance, the fingertip penetrating just above his nipple. He sees it – his nipple is still there! But his skin gives way to the man's finger, some of it remaining gloppily stuck to the fingertip as it lifts away, taking a piece of him with it._

 _In his ear, the slurping as the fiend eats of his body. William gaped down at the dip, the hole, in his flesh… Watched as slowly, his skin, his tissues, the pink slop that was him, pooled back in to refill the emptied spot._

 _Again, the rush, the nausea, the blaring ringing in his ears as the man reached in another time, took another taste of him, another finger-full, this one deeper, branding him, the flesh_ not _filling back in – wounding him permanently, with his mark. William's devastating fear, and pain, and disgust, and anger – burrowed and dug into every inch of his flesh solidifying it, finally his shame hardening it, imprinting, locking, the man's conquest into his form._

 _Unbearable in that last moment, he saw it in a blink, the raider's face, greenish-grey with the stench of decay, identifying the one who had subjugated him, smirking, William saw him, Flannel Bull!_

 _In the midst of his frenzied retreat, anger surged up, powering his livid scream._ William demanded aloud into their dark bedroom, " **Give me back my shirt!"**

His sudden jolt awakening Julia too, she sat up next to him, concerned. "William?" her voice worried, came to him, beckoned, in the blackness. " _He had a bad dream,_ " her own voice told her, just then noticing the racing of her heart, pounding, barreling in her chest. Her hand reached for him, found his muscly shoulder. She took a breath and reassured as best she could, "It was just a dream, William… just a dream."

"It's fine. I'm fine. Leave it. Go back to sleep… The baby will need nursing in few hours," William said. Knowing it would be the only way to get her attention off of him, get out from under her microscope, he laid back down, fluffed his pillow, pretended he would go back to sleep.

Endlessly long he waited. Made himself breath, made it sound as if he were relaxed and sleepy and fine. It took so long, but eventually he thought she was asleep. He was desperate to get away. He could not stay in bed, simply could not. Inch by inch he snuck to slip out from under the covers, slowly, slowly a stealthy shift to sit on the edge of the bed. _Be still, listen to her breathing._ The air cooled his skin and he found it intolerable being naked. His pajamas were still under the pillow, having been untouched. He took them in hand, stole out of their bedroom, just one among the dark shadows.

Out in the hallway, he put his pajamas on. After looking in on the baby, William went downstairs. He had thought to make some hot chocolate, but now he simply stood and stared at the front door. Through that door… his bicycle. His leg muscles tingled with his need. _My God_ , he thought that might work, might burn away the misery, to pedal and pedal as hard, and as fast, as he possibly could, with all of his might, till his muscles screamed at him in pain and he could pedal no more. He needed the control of it, and the power of it… the suffering of it, to be in _**his**_ charge, not anyone else's.

Unwilling to add to his humiliation being discovered out in the public streets wearing only his pajamas, William resisted the overwhelming desire to purge his self-disgust using his wheel. He would have to find another way.

Sometime later Julia found him down in his workroom, the lights on, dimly illuminating the basement stairs, the sounds of his grunts and the clanging of the barbell alerting her to his actions. She knew before she walked in, that he was working much harder than usual, the quickness of his rhythm betraying his emergency.

She wondered if he knew she was standing there watching him as he lay on his back lifting the massive weights. There had been the slightest change in his pacing, before he had resumed the beat. She exhaled strongly, needing to lower the pressure, figuring it would notify him she would be about to speak.

Boldly, Julia stepped in, walked to the edge of his worktable, directly in his peripheral view. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asked. She held in her arms his robe and his slippers, she herself dressed with those same articles.

He did not answer immediately, hoisted the barbell above his chest once more, wincing in pain, stifling the rhythmical grunt this time. Exhaling as the weight came down, he offered a reply, "Mmm," as he broke the routine and rested the bar into its side-holders, stopping the incessant, mad lifting. He noticed her sit on a stool. Waiting, he let the heavy exhaustion paralyze him with pain, delighted in having accomplished such torture, even if just for a moment, before he faced her, faced what he knew she would ask him to do.

She waited too, for him. Heard it again while she waited, in her mind replayed it, him yelling into the night, stamping his odd words into her memory, _"Give me back my shirt."_

Releasing a monumental sigh, William stood up, paced one side of the room, scratched his head, glanced her way, paced back the other way. He was unsettled, clearly unsettled.

Too late, she thought of _not_ being so direct, _after_ the words had left her lips, "What did you dream?" she asked.

He exhaled strongly through his pursed lips, yet the tension remained high.

Such a panic swept through her with the look of him. He turned rigid, hard. His jaw clenched tight. His tone was angry…

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it," he reminded.

 _O.K. so it wasn't going to be as easy as she had thought_. Her instincts advised her to lighten the mood. "I brought your slippers," she offered, holding them out towards him, wrinkling her face with doubt… or maybe apology. "You know how much I suffer and shriek when you put your freezing-cold feet on me when we're in bed," she then added, hoping with her smile.

His reaction reminded her of a bull about to charge, his nostrils ragefully exhaling a burst of singeing, hot air. He snatched the slippers out of her hand. His eyes glared into hers. "I didn't want you to take care of me Julia. I'm a big boy," he scolded.

"Your anger and your fear do not frighten me William," she defended, with her eyes firmly holding her own.

His jaw gritted harder, he turned away. William considered ignoring her presence, going back to his weights. _One pathway his mind traveled down envisioned hurling the damn slippers across the room!_ Another part of him recognized the peril, for he was now feeling so riled up, so in danger of losing control, that his muscles twitched. From behind him he heard her, attended to her call to him, pulling him away from his struggle…

"Well," her voice softer now, calling him back, the tiniest giggle at herself trickling out between the words, "perhaps they do a little," she admitted, referring to his anger and his fear.

Her honesty, her vulnerability, her bravery, her astounding…ness – it melted him. He turned back to face her, his eyes still down.

She could see the physical change in him, his chest at first rising, expanding, then dramatically dropping as he released a large dose of the tension steaming inside of him. William lifted his face to meet hers, his eyes so warm. Julia's heart was set aglow, erupting with the of heat of feeling such a delicious caring for this lovely man. _He would try – she knew he would try._

He came and sat on the stool next to her at his worktable – softer. Always, every time he ever did it, this next simple gesture, it flipped her insides over with love for him. And he did it now, gave her just a little sideways glance, with the smallest of grins at the corner of his mouth reminding of the Mona Lisa, as he checked… checked to see if she was looking at him, and she could tell, he was glad that she was. He trusted her, he sought connection with her. _Oh_ , his internal battle still raged on she knew, for just then he exhaled through pursed lips in an effort to dislodge some of the pounding in his heart, in his veins, in his head, but they would work it out, there was no doubt. They were together, and when they were together they could accomplish amazing things.

Her psychiatry training drove her thoughts. Perhaps she had been wrong to think his overreactions this evening had been solely due to the similarities of being discovered in the coatroom with Mrs. Riley with his experiences of her doubting his fidelity when she discovered the condom in his coat pocket and the two of them had had that dreadful fight about Ettie Weston. She suspected, however, that the horrible experiences that William had been through at that time – back about six or seven months ago when he had gone undercover with George to investigate a murder on a train. He had pretended to be a hobo, out in the harsh world of poverty and cruelty that he had come to call the _**jungle**_. The case involved the abuses of the meat industry. It had been long and hard and she had never seen him so hurt by a case as he had returned from this one.

He had confided in her, in explaining the condom, that there had been an incident, an awful, traumatic, abusive incident in which a policeman had held George at gunpoint and forced William to allow him to make sexual advances to him in front of a large group of male onlookers. There had been a chance that William would be taken away as a captive of the man, would likely have been forced to perform sexual acts against his will. He had been spared that victimization however, a young boy had been chosen in William's stead, but still, the experience would have damaged William deeply, she was certain.

Julia's mind raced with her memories of him telling her about it. The perpetrating man's nickname, used by the hobos, was Flannel Bull. At one point, he had made William take off his shirt, fondled his naked chest while all looked on. She suspected he may have explored even further, though William did not say. Her train of thought was interrupted as her mind conjured up again, William's furious voice, under it his horror, screaming, _"Give me back my shirt!"_ into the darkness as he woke from his nightmare. "

 _Of course!"_ her brain trumpeted, _she was on to something!_ Further, Candace Riley had unbuttoned William's shirt tonight, as part of her attempted seduction. There was one final thought, a noticing really, sealing Julia's confidence that she was right about William's experience being victimized by this creep, Flannel Bull, being the underlying trauma that was triggered tonight. William tended to workout with his weights while _bare-chested_ , yet he sat here next to her right now drenched in sweat, _his pajama top still on_ , the red fabric soaked from his efforts.

So, Julia thought she had the essential connection, the trigger being Candace Riley trying to take off his shirt… or at least she was close. But, she also knew it needed to be _**William**_ who figured it out, and he was deeply lost. She needed a way… a way for him to get there. He was amazingly bright, she knew, and willing – with her. And…

" _They had done it before!"_ She remembered… " _with the butterflies!"_

William had sat next to her, delving into his own thoughts, working to figure out what to say. Lifting a foot up onto his knee, he put on a slipper… then the other. He swallowed, pushing down the looming shame. "Thanks… for the slippers," he said somewhat sheepishly.

"You're welcome," came her quick reply. They each breathed for a moment. He considered admitting that he didn't know that to do…

"William, it seems to me that tonight you overreacted… to a horrible situation, but um, well still, I think it was an overreaction," she said. Her mind offered up evidence she could cite, like his excessive beating of Mr. Riley and his crying. She decided to add the nightmare.

He nodded, agreeing.

"And then there was the bad dream," she continued.

His eyes held hers, worried, his face locking to hide his emotions. He was feeling his intense aversion. It would be hard for him not to shove it out of his conscious awareness. She needed him to fight for it, to trust that he could survive it, handle it.

"You know," her voice solid, strong, steady, "Such overreactions stem from deep-rooted feelings, usually associated with past traumas…" Julia paused, waited for him to nod, relieved when he did. She went on, "And when you figure out the underlying event, the roots of those feelings, then the trauma is better healed. It helps."

He frowned.

She surprised herself when she giggled at his response. "Oh William," her heart soared and she took him by the hand, "I will prove it to you – remind you really. Come," she instructed, loving with all her heart when he willingly followed along. She so adored his profound trust in her.

Upstairs in their bedroom she pulled out her journal. She sat in the chair of her vanity, he on the vanity top, as she found the entry she wanted and read it to him.

 _ **If I had not already been head-over-heels in love with William Murdoch, I would have become so today. There was something about the way this brilliant, strong, brave man let himself be vulnerable with me, trusted me with his weakest feelings, despite our romantic connection – or perhaps because of it, that wholly clicked my certainty –**_ _that I really am the one for him_ _ **– into place. He had had such an illogical fear… of butterflies of all things. Now, I know such unfounded fears, fears that even William himself described, to my patients, of all people, as being 'unyielding to reason,' are often markers for another fear, a more important one, one that is related to a past experience that was traumatic.**_

 _ **He had shared that he started feeling uneasy about butterflies when he was around eight years old. And to me it was surprising that a man like William, with a mind that detects connections like none other that I have ever known, did not seem to notice the significance of this age with his mother's death. I chalk it up to the power of the subconscious to hide such devastating and troubling awarenesses from view. I just planted the seed, handed him the searchlight, and then marveled in him as he sought it through.**_

 _ **I will never forget the look on his face when he asked me not to open the butterfly cage, and yet he managed to find the courage, the trust I think, to stay, not to step back, not to run away. I told him that I was thinking about what had happened to him when was eight and he started to feel uneasy about them. And then all I did was say, "Your mother died then, didn't she?" Just a little push, a little encouragement to think, to chase it down now that he knew it was there, and he did it! I am so astoundingly proud and happy that he did it. William Murdoch is a rare man indeed. And he'll never know it, but what he did today, confronting his experiences from when he found his mother dead at the age of eight, doing such a thing I find truly braver than running headlong into a man threatening someone with a gun, or even running after a madwoman armed with a microwave death-ray. He may never know, but I do… He is amazing, a wonder, and I thank my lucky stars that this remarkable man loves, trusts, has chosen to share his life, with me.**_ __

A quiet snap when she closed the journal, Julia looked to him. She watched as his happiness mixed and then became overpowered by his awareness that she would be asking him to do such a thing again. She waited until she saw it, he accepted the challenge, announcing that he was ready with a sigh followed by a tight-lipped smile and a polite nod.

"And did it help?" she asked, "discovering your subconscious' connection between your memories, your feelings, your experiences when finding your mother's body and your fear of butterflies?" Julia wondered.

"Yes," he admitted, "I still feel uneasy whenever I encounter them, but I quickly remember why and then the aversion abates… The memory of finding her though, it is unavoidable, um, now, when I see a butterfly."

"And is that so bad, remembering finding her… whenever you see a one?" she asked.

"No," he gave her a subtle bow, "No, it's not so bad." _Other memories come with that one, some hard, some lovely,_ he realized, _but the overall feeling he often had in the end was of having been so strongly loved by his mother… bittersweet now, seeing butterflies._

So, having made her point, Julia returned to the matter at hand, "Can you think of any times in your life, William…" she watched him take in a breath and hold it… brace. She would push forward anyway, continuing, "…when someone did to you what Candace Riley did tonight?" He appeared uncertain, and she decided to be more specific, adding, "Physically… sexually asserted themselves on you."

"No," he answered quickly, shaking his head, denying it.

Julia sighed, searched for another way. Then she asked, "William," her tone hopeful, lightening his heart, "Did you write about the first time Candace Riley did this to you?"

His detective mind swung into action, chasing clues. Julia's question indicated that she knew tonight in the coatroom was not the first time, and William wondered how she knew. He remembered her telling him ' _he had some explaining to do'_ after they first introduced themselves to the Riley's tonight. That pathway ended. Deeper in his brain circuits however, William was still working on her first question… about _**any**_ time in his life someone had _**sexually pushed themselves on him**_. He felt it sinking down, taking hold of a root that was solidly buried, feeling thick, and strong, and very, very deep…

"I did," he answered her. He walked over to his bedside table and retrieved his journal. Returning to his place on the vanity top, he read about it to her.

 _ **Sometimes my own naiveté surprises even me. I should have known the moment that fancy-toff carriage pulled up to the back of Riley's Sawmill, with a woman in the back. And Dempsey said she likes the handsome ones and my work here today was done. Truth be told, I did know, but still, somehow, I just didn't think it would come to THAT. The woman was all over me, and so quickly. She truly believed we were going to have sexual intercourse together. She did not care who I was, whether I was religious, or married… I'M MARRIED! My head kept screaming! Kissing me, touching me, pushing her body on me. She said… And I give myself some credit here, for I had been very clear that I was not interested in having sexual relations with her… And she had the gall to say, as if I were some slave, some powerless, helpless… nothing, "No one says no to me. Not if they know what's good for them." If her husband had not come home, I fear I would have had to hurt her, possibly physically, to get her to stop.**_

 _ **Well, at least I found Riley's logbooks while hiding from him in his study. Still… had to listen to them grunt and moan. I must say, it was pretty quick, almost over before it started. It couldn't have been any good for the woman, sex like that. I know better now how outstanding our lovemaking is, Julia's and mine. Part of me thinks I should tell Julia about it, but I don't see what good could come of it. No harm done. Case solved in the end. Truth be told though, I really can't wait till she gets home. I miss her more than I thought I would. I want her in my arms, want to smell her, taste her, feel her against me… around me. Leading to nowhere good, this. Goodnight journal. Thanks for listening.**_

"I see," Julia said. Unable to hide her smile, so she decided to share it with him, bouncing gleefully in her chair. _Whew_ , did her womb flip when he blushed. _My God_ , she loved him. It took a moment, but her mind went back to pursuing her point. She reached up and took the journal from him, closing it and placing it down on the vanity. There was much to learn from it.

"It occurs to me, William," her business-like tone signaling the change of focus, "that you did not overreact like you did tonight when she basically forced herself on you back then, when you were undercover on the House of Industry case," she paused.

He considered it, agreed with a wrinkle at the corner of his mouth. His mind rushed forward asking the same question as she then asked aloud…

"So whatever happened after that, that this time her sexual affronts so riled you up, it had to have happened sometime after you worked on that case, would it not?" she reasoned.

"It would," he concurred with her logic. He carried the thinking forward, asking of himself out loud, "So, when after the House of Industry case did someone…"

It was his sudden stop that signaled to Julia that he had found it – that and the strange look on his face, so open, as if seeing something that he had never in his life seen before, something that he had no idea what it was. And then his expression changed, betraying his disgust and horror, as it flickered there, just before his eyes teared-up and he turned to look at her, and then he stayed with her, even though his face told her he wanted more than anything in the world to run away… and then a metamorphosis flowed over him, and his jaw clenched tight, and his pupils narrowed, and he stood up with a purpose, and he walked, really, more marched away. A moment later she heard it pound and thunder, as he punched the wall.

Julia pictured his knuckles in her doctor's mind. They had already been cut and bruised from beating Mr. Riley. _Lord, she hoped they wouldn't now be broken_. She took a deep breath to calm herself… There would be a hole in the wall. Her inner voice prayed for William Jr. to remain sleeping.

Listening intently, to only the silence. She panicked with her uncertainty of what to do. " _He remembered, that's for sure_ ," she started to return to the original goal. " _But now what?"_ she drilled herself.

A sigh of relief audibly escaped her chest with his return. He too, exhaled strongly. He wrinkled his face. "Sorry," he said.

"Tell me of the dream," she led, sitting back in her chair to make room for him again on the top of the vanity.

The memory made his skin crawl. For her, he could do this for her. William described the dream – being on stage under the spotlights, with someone evil behind him… And George thrown to the ground and a gun cocking, George's life depending on his submitting. The man's creepy voice commanding, "Take off your shirt." My skin changed, became salmon-colored and gooey. The man took a finger-full of my flesh from my chest, ate it, then took a second finger-full, this second one leaving, in me, a permanent scar, a mark, indelible and permanent, declaring his conquest of me, his domination of me, labeling my weakness and helplessness forever.

William paused, shared a look with her for a moment, such distaste on his face. He shook his head, so wanted not to confront it, and said, "All those eyes on me, Julia… all those men's eyes."

The psychiatrist's voice in her thought, " _Clearly, Flannel Bull's perpetration had_ _ **gotten under his skin**_ _."_ The incident he described, admitting it was a man's voice, she believed it was obvious that it was the horrendous encounter with the abusive policeman that William was remembering, reacting to. She wondered if he knew so too? She had felt her edges tremor with compassion, concern for him, her empathy so strong that she had imagined feeling her own skin become so… grotesque, so compromised, albeit briefly, before she bolstered her defenses and emotionally stepped back. Now she worked to sound unharmed by the severity of his story, yet to still be with him. More than anything, she knew he needed _not to feel alone_ with such a burden. She would call him back. He would need some distance from the memory to be able to answer, but not so much that he had lost touch with the feelings.

"William…" she asked, drawing his eyes, waiting for his expression to neutralize, waiting for the bad taste in his mouth to dissipate as he grounded with her, "Did you recognize the man's voice… the man who hurt you, in the dream?"

William heard the vile man's repulsive voice in his ear from behind once more – "Take off your shirt," the order came. He did not need to answer her question, for he already knew who the man in the dream was, he had seen his face at the end. His hesitation was because his mind had begun to take the next step… it did so rather quickly. Truth be told, it felt like he had always seen the connection, but now he would tell her, his utterance of the words rendering the truth no longer deniable.

"He, uh… Flannel Bull told me to take off my shirt, as did Mrs. Riley," William said, to the bedroom with a frown." He sighed. There was that adorable sideways glance, checking if she was there, before he went on, "I guess that's the trigger, that and the similarities of having them force themselves on me." After another sigh, William's words rushed forward, like running through flames. "What Flannel Bull did, Julia…" he stopped there, however, lost his nerve.

" _William's good with facts_ ," she coached herself, " _Ask about specific details."_ She leaned forward in her chair, took his hand in hers, and asked him, "How is the dream similar to what Flannel Bull did, when you were undercover out in _the jungle_?"

The change in his body language was striking, more confident, focused. His eyes more steady, held to hers. "Flannel Bull subjected me to these things in a barn, in front of dozens of desperate, powerless men. They all watched. It was so public – like in the dream." William looked away. Turned his focus inward, searched the memories. "George was knocked on the ground at gunpoint – like in the dream too," he said, then wrinkled his mouth…

 _He would admit to something difficult right now_ , she thought.

William pushed it out, the tightness of his resistance stealing his air, turning his face red. "He reveled in the touching, Julia… He stood behind me, like in the dream, and he rubbed, and he stroked, and he admired. And his foul, hot breath was in my ear…"

Julia's mind darted to a thought – a fear. She wondered if Flannel Bull had gone farther than touching William's chest… _and if he had, would William ever be able to tell her? Should she ask?_ Julia felt her body respond to her own discomfort.

"With all those men watching…" William paused and turned to look her in the eye.

 _Shaking, he was shaking_ , she noticed, but he pushed on. Unable to withstand her seeing him, the feelings of shame intolerable, he dropped his chin, his beautiful eyes bolting away, dropped her hand, planted both of his palms firmly on the tops of his thighs… but he said it, he told her. "He put his hand in… in my trousers…" he had to swallow to keep his voice, "Julia. He uh… he took a hold of me, in front of all those men. He took my…" William stopped. He exhaled, letting her know he would say no more. He waited, for somehow he knew, he knew that she would know what to do.

Regret seeped in, for Julia knew what her next question would have to be. Only her training and her experience were holding her together, because this was William… _my God William_! And she would need to be strong. She reminded herself of the healing power of exposing such truths, those disgusting, _unbearable_ , devastating, dark truths buried deep inside, that the soul has been bearing alone, hidden away. Confidence built, _confront the demons_ , she charged herself, she would ask it of him, this beautiful and brave man, she would ask it – now.

Yet, this question would be the hardest of all, and she needed to take extreme care. The potential revelation of the memory, if it were the case – if this one thing were the truth – its punch on William's psyche, it could buckle him. " _Be smart_ ," she coached herself _. It has to be less personal. Remove it from HIS experience… at first._

"William, many people who have been victimized in… in a, sexual way… they um, sometimes the body reacts…" _My God, she was nervous_. _"Don't stutter, don't dawdle, straight, go straight,_ " her inner voice guided her onward. "Sometimes, even when it is unwanted, the person's body reacts sexually to the perpetrator's uninvited advances," she said clearly.

Julia stayed with him as he went through it. As if the trapdoor had opened, and a giant wind had rushed in, and that one-high-pitched-note-violined in his head stinging his ears, stunning him, spinning him away. The floor seemed to waver closer, reality shifted. _Oh,_ this _was_ the truth of it. He _had_ responded. He remembered it so lucidly now. He had grown harder in the man's hand. And the letch had relished in it, drinking it in, increased his rhythmical grip around William's groin, moaning silently, the sleazy brute's abhorrent breath fogging over William's naked skin, there in the dimly-lit, freezing cold barn in the middle of the jungle, for all to see. It could not be denied.

He heard it again, Flannel Bull's voice, he smelled his revolting breath float and surround him, sink into him, curdling his skin. " _ **Oh yes,"**_ the lecherous man had exhaled with his declaration of his pleasure, then announced to the crowds, " _ **He'll do**_."

Despite the shame, William could not withstand it alone. He lifted his head, having said nothing… _and my God_ when his eyes met hers the universe felt the impact of it.

Julia's eyes had filled with tears, her professionalism giving way. But… it served them well, for it was those red, swollen, tear-filled eyes that guaranteed for him that he was _NOT_ alone… and that _he_ was not disgusting… _he_ was not shameful… nor horrid… nor lecherous.

 _ **He was innocent –**_

 _ **And he had survived.**_

The corner of William's mouth wrinkled up. _Unbelievable_ , her brain thought, for she had held that it was not possible to ever have loved him more, and yet at that very moment, her heart expanded and she did.

Words… unfound…

They embraced. She wanted to tell him that he was amazing, that she loved him, so very, very much… and that everything would be alright. But she knew he knew. And she knew that he wanted to thank her, and tell her she was remarkable, and that he knew there was a reason he had married her, and that he loved her. But she knew, he knew, she knew. So, they remained silent together, treasuring in the rediscovery that they would never, ever again be alone.

After a time, she noticed the dampness of him against her skin. The tremors of their connection had settled down. Julia stepped out of his arms and smiled. Such joy when he smiled in return.

"I think you need another shower," she said simply, taking the sweaty collar of his pajama top between her fingers.

"Yes," he gave with a nod. He captured a rebellious curl dangling near her cheek and asked, "Do you think I may be so fortunate as to have my loving wife waiting to spoil me with a fluffy towel when I'm done?"

"I do," she smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

William found he did not need the water to be scalding hot this time. He found he felt better. When he stepped out of the shower, she was not there. He wrapped himself in a fresh towel, went to find her. Julia had fallen asleep – _she was probably so utterly exhausted_ , he reasoned with the sight of her. She lay on top of the covers on their bed, a big, plush towel ready in her hands, sound asleep.

Such a glowing happiness flooded his heart. This beautiful woman loved him so, and he was so very grateful that he had found her, the one, the perfect one in the world for him. There at the foot of their bed, William fell down onto his knees and he prayed his thanks to God for bringing her to him, and for their baby son, and for their good fortune.

Dry, and clean, and fresh, and cathartically exhausted, he cuddled up next to his wife in the darkness, under an extra blanket on top of the wrinkled covers in their bed. Feeling better, feeling healed, William slept deeply, together with the love of his life.

) ( The Next Morning

 _Julia's humming_ , the awareness, the sound, came to him as if from a dream. William opened his eyes, to the morning-light softness in their bedroom. The sound of Julia humming, intermittently with the sounds of her teeth being brushed, and rinsed, echoed quietly from within the bathroom. He rolled over to be able to see her when she walked out… _Lord_ , did every muscle in his body ache. His stomach cringed, cramped, as it resisting being told to move. The memories of being punched hit him first, then of the workout after his nightmare, and finally the full-fledged awfulness of the previous night breached his mind.

Yet, Julia, his lovely Julia, she was humming. And he felt deeply happy. She emerged from the bathroom, only a robe on. _My God she was beautiful!_ Her humming low, William rushed to close his eyes and feign sleep, anticipating her glance.

She took a seat at her vanity, took her brush in hand, stroked down her long hair, each sweep managing to glisten the thin curls more and more. William, longing to see, risked having her notice him move, and propped himself up on an elbow, cherishing watching her with every fiber of his being.

Only a few more strokes with the hairbrush before she teased, "I wonder how much longer my husband will laze away the morning?" Her big, blue eyes found his in the reflection in the mirror.

"Come here," he said.

Delicious, torque-filled jolts erupted in her womb with his words, the look on his face, the confidence of his demand. "If you mean that to be some sort of _mating call_ , husband…"

"I do… Come," he interrupted, turning to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Julia put her hairbrush down, forced herself to slow down. As she walked to him, she tried to remember why she didn't think this was a good idea, but her lust was running away with her. She felt so wonderfully dizzy with want for him.

She stood before him. His breathing was rushed, and strong. William's eyes dark and wide, he swallowed anticipating the feel, the smell, the taste, of her breasts, her body, her flesh. His eyes glided down from her neck to the point where her creamy skin disappeared under the silky fabric of her robe. He took hold of the sash, pulled it, watched the bow grow smaller, then offer a little resistance before it lightly snapped opened, revealing more of her. He slid his fingers between the two sides of the robe, reached in, pushed it aside, and let the devastation of the sight of her pound his brain.

Both his hands, on her hips, sliding up, riding the curves, under her breasts. Julia's knees so weak, then her fingers in his hair. Heavy, her touch. First one knee, bending, moving over his lap, settling on the mattress beside him, then the other as she straddled him, sitting facing him in his lap. William's moan rocked her world as his face became muffled between her breasts. The kissing, and when he smelled her deeply, then big mouthfuls of the curves of her breast, she felt she'd feint away. Up towards the nipple…

And she remembered all of a sudden. And she stopped him. "I have yet to nurse the baby," her breathless voice explained above his ear. Unsaid between them, he understood her milk was too close to flowing.

He surprised her with a tight hug, pulling her close to him, a spin, a lift – he stood, turned back to the bed with her in his arms, bent and brought them both back down on the mattress, her underneath him. He kissed her passionately, greedily! The man was ravenous.

"William," she broke free of a wild kiss, only to be captured by his mouth again. Then his nibbles traveled her jaw, letting her speak. " _Words, Julia_ ," she hollered at herself, " _Say words_." It was a moan that barreled out of her mouth instead, for she had imagined him on top of her, pushing into her with powerful thrusts. _My God_ , her insides couldn't clench any tighter, so taught she was sure they'd snap.

"William," she tried again. _Oh my God_ , he pushed at her thigh, opened her. " _Please_ ," her inner-core begged. "William, we shouldn't," she barely said.

"Why," his voice so lusciously rugged and impatient, not really asking, as his hand was sliding up from her knee… so close…

"The baby will cry…" she blurted out.

But, it was hopeless, for his fingers touched her slipperiness, and she arched up into him with a surge of need, and a huge moan burst out of her. Her hunger, her joy, bringing tears to her eyes, for William's moan betrayed his voracious urge too.

Abruptly, he pushed away, rose above her onto his knees. His black eyes pinned her in place. Reaching his hands behind his head, his fingers grabbed at his pajama top, a quick duck and he pulled it over his head. That magnificent, gorgeous, chest of his heaved with hungry desperate breaths right before her. "We'll have to be quick," he insisted, his eyes once again locking to hers.

The weakness, the surrender she felt under him only magnified the wrenching, twisting, tightness in her womb. She dropped her eyes away from his… to watch as he pulled the string on his pajama bottoms and pulled them down, revealing his eagerness. "Yes," she exhaled desperately, unclear whether she was agreeing to his suggestion to be quick, or urging him on.

William took her commandingly, roughly. His body heavy on top of hers, his arms locked around her, under her shoulders, his fingers grasping her hard, holding her down against his upward rupturing of her. Deep, he pushed in, deeper still. The effort pounding, each thrust with a grunt, each pull back preparing for the drawback of a tidal wave, only to flood and power forward into her again, and again. Closer, they were getting closer.

"Hurry, William," she warned.

With everything he had he drove into her, the last inch, right there. _Now he had her, right there. There's the tilt… Slower now, you've got her… Heavenly, sweet. So sweet,_ the rush _._ "Mm," he heard her in his ear. "Mm," again, as her body pumped underneath him sucking and lapping up every last drop of him.

"I love you, Julia," he kissed into her ear, "I love you, you delicious, delicious woman," as his desperate pumping stopped and their world swirled scrumptiously out of control, and their hearts thundered so hard they wondered if they'd survive it, and they waited for the slowing of the whirlwind, together.

"My God, that was good," she whispered to him.

"Mm," he agreed, too tired to speak. He showered her with a few more kisses before…

William Jr.'s "Eh-heh… Eh-heh," warned that he had woken up, that he would start to cry.

"I'll get him," Julia said from underneath him.

"No," William said, his voice dry and raspy… lovely. "I'll go get him… bring him here," he said, sliding out of her, lifting off of her. Instantly, she missed him.

In the brief time that he was away getting the baby, part of her joying in the sounds of William greeting and soothing, and talking to their son, another part of her marveled at the intensity of the lovemaking they just had. A flash lit across her mind, remembering the confidence, the cockiness of the look of him as he pulled off his shirt – his choice, proud, he puffed-out and shared with her his chest. Amazing, after the night he'd had, and the stirring up of such awful experiences. _She had to say, he was right, she was definitely the one for him._

 _Now, all they had to do was survive the newspapers_ , she thought with a secret giggle, _such scandal… everybody getting_ _ **so riled up**_ _about the_ _ **Riley's**_ ( ;


	23. Romance & Parenting in a Modern Family

Journal Journeys_Romance & Parenting in a Modern Family

Up until that moment, Julia believed the hardest thing she had ever done in her life was to leave William for Buffalo, but now, with the click of the key in the front door behind them, their infant son inside and her outside – going to work with William, well, now she wondered if leaving that innocent baby boy – knowing he would not understand that she would be back, she wondered if _**this**_ might not be harder. In the far recesses of her mind, a memory warned, surging a different pang of guilt in her gut with a troublesome thought, older… now resolved, " _Perhaps the abortion was worse."_ The dreadful feeling registered more so than the actual thought, and because other competing thoughts loomed larger and more present, some reassuring, others adding to her worry, the memory of her abortion did not fully hit home.

" _Be grateful he's not crying_ ," she encouraged herself, remembering the very last sight of their little boy slapping his tiny little baby hand against his high chair while his beautiful, big brown eyes stared into hers. She took heart in the fact that subsequent to this day they had made sure to leave the baby with Claire-Marie often, and thus, their infant son was quite accustomed to separating from them… from her. She just knew, though, that by the second feeding today, her baby boy would be missing her terribly. Today would be her first _**full day**_ at the morgue. William took her elbow. Leaning over closer to her, he reassured her, "He'll be alright, Julia," he said giving her one of his drop-dead gorgeous sideways glances, checking on her.

With every ounce of his being, for he had seen tears welling in her eyes, he yearned to pull her into a hug, squeeze her tight, kiss away her tears, but he knew she needed his strength more than she needed his compassion at this moment. Standing up taller, projecting confidence and certainty, he said, "We have prepared for this day. He will be just fine, hmm," seeking her nod.

William picked up the pace of their walking down their front path, already turning his eyes down the street. If they were lucky, there would be a carriage right away and thus there would be no lingering while Julia battled against the temptation to run back inside. Fortunately, the wait was brief, and his conversation about his latest case, one involving a robbery rather than a murder, sufficed to distract her.

A sigh of relief escaped his chest once they were in the carriage and had turned the corner off of their street. He suggested they try to have lunch together – he would come by the morgue. He agreed to also come pick her up at the end of the day. Unsaid between them was the agreement that he would be doing so promptly at five o'clock, due to her anxiousness about being away from the baby any longer than necessary.

Arriving in the morgue, Julia had steeled herself for the feelings of guilt and worry she would encounter once she was alone, only to find that she was not – Rebecca was already there. "Miss James," she greeted happily, for she so very much welcomed the company, "I didn't expect you till later?"

"Yes mam… Doctor," the young protégé stammered a bit, "I received a call, that Stationhouse #5 needed us to perform an autopsy for them…"

"Oh," Julia wondered, "And what of Dr. Reynolds?"

The two women stared down at the body of a man on a gurney next to the autopsy slab. Julia realized she hadn't even yet taken off her hat. It was August, mercilessly hot, and still she found she desperately wanted more coffee. This was going to be a rougher day than she had expected, though a part of her celebrated with the welcome distraction of being busy.

"It seems Dr. Reynolds broke his arm," Rebecca replied, each of them still perusing the body. She went on to explain, "The doctor is still working in the morgue, but this case, um, the constable on the phone was not clear, actually, as to why…"

Julia sighed. On first glance, the cause of death was not immediately obvious. There was no blood, no obvious bullet holes or stab wounds… no contusions around the neck. "It's probably more complicated than he felt he could handle injured as he is," she offered. With a quick change of posture, Julia inhaled the humid unpleasant air and suggested, "Let's start in a minute, Miss James. Take a moment to settle in." Her big blue eyes met those of her assistant, and then her smile thanked the dedicated woman. Heading for her desk, up the back way from the autopsy theater, her hat pins already being removed, Julia asked as she walked up the steps, "I have some of that Hills Brothers coffee. Would you like a cup?"

Unnoticed by Julia, Rebecca was rushing to stay right behind her. _She so wanted to see her mentor's reaction._ "Yes, please," she answered about the coffee.

No answer came from Julia, for her mind had become preoccupied with solving an internal puzzle. An aversive feeling of dread and disgust had stirred in her stomach and she was chasing down the cause. " _Detective Dermott!"_ her brain exclaimed, " _Of course, that sleazy Stationhouse #5 detective would be working the case._ " Her brain entertained her with an analogy for the man's lewd behavior, showing her a man drooling and sweating and lusting upon seeing before him a huge, red, juicy steak with a lady's sexy legs and heels protruding out of it. " _The man sees women like a starving dog sees a steak!_ " she hollered triumphantly in her head having found the connection to the feeling... and knowing her role in it was that of the steak.

Julia's pace had been quite quick, her hat now in hand, she was marching across the tiny room to hang it on the wall behind her desk. It had been just a glance, her eyes having returned forward before what she had seen on her desk flashed in her awareness. Surprise, joy… erupted within her. _**Flowers! Flowers! There had to be at least two dozen roses on her desk!**_

Dr. Ogden's sudden halt, her gasp, brought to Rebecca such a thrill. She felt the corners of her own smile stretched so wide they almost hurt. Before Julia could gather any words she said, "Detective Murdoch…"

Especially in juxtaposition to her feelings of revulsion in response to that lecherous man Dermott, seeing William's flowers quietly waiting there for her filled Julia with an intense feeling of being valued and loved, and cherished for her whole being, entirely and deeply… _And particularly on this day of all days, she really needed that_. Truth be told, she had to fight the urge to cry, for Miss James stood right behind her. Yet, when her eyes chanced a glimpse at the young woman, those tears of happiness came.

"I'm a very lucky woman, Miss James," she said, her voice choked up with emotion.

"That you are doctor," Rebecca replied. Rebecca considered saying that the detective was also lucky for having her, but she decided instead to let Dr. Ogden enjoy things just the way they were for the moment.

Julia noticed there was a card tucked in between the soft blooms of some of the flowers. She would read it later when she had more privacy. " _How did he get them here_?" Julia asked herself as she hung her hat.

"Did my husband… Did he have you…"

"He did, um, last night he came by with the roses and asked me if I would bring them out of the cold room for you to find them on your desk. That was really why I was here to receive the phone call so early… from the constable at Stationhouse 5," Rebecca explained.

Julia began the preparation of the coffee. She decided to venture a bit of self-disclosure with her companion, protégé, and friend. "Miss James, I do know that to most people, well, my husband would not appear to be very…" Julia stopped for a moment, _perhaps this was not SELF-disclosure as much as revealing personal things about William?_

Wanting very much for the doctor to go on, Rebecca finished her thought, "Romantically expressive," she suggested.

Julia smiled. She turned and gave a quick nod. " _Close enough_ ," she thought. _She was going to say 'passionate.'_ She shared a tale that related somewhat directly to the roses. "When we had first married," she started.

Rebecca was all ears.

Julia chuckled with the memory as she continued, "William had a case involving performers of vaudeville acts…" Her cheery expression boosted Rebecca's collaborative laughter as she added a quick side-note about the comic performances of Constables Crabtree and Higgins, and then shared about William's miserably failed attempts at telling jokes.

"One of the performers was a woman," Julia went back to her story, "who turned out to be the murderer. Well, she told a joke about one of the pitfalls of marriage, um…" Julia worked to remember the joke. "Oh yes, it was something like, when a man is courting you he'll spend all his money on roses, but after you're married he won't even bring you a bouquet of dandelions," she told.

Rebecca laughed heartily, saying, "Seems true."

Offering Miss James her cup of coffee, Julia took her own and headed for her desk. "Well, after that William surprised me with a dozen roses," she said, placing her cup on the desk next to the file for the body from Stationhouse #5. Pulling out the chair as she lifted the file and opened it, Julia went on, "He said the sweetest thing when he gave them to me…"

 _Miss James saw it, found herself distracted by it, on the doctor's chair…_

"I promise to never stop courting you," William's romantic words made it out of her mouth and into the air _just before_ Julia sat and the fart-sound trumpeted out of the whoopee cushion.

The doctor jumped and gasped and so did Rebecca! Then so very quickly they both fell into embarrassed laughter. Julia pulled out the whoopee cushion from under her rear-end and displayed for all to see. So shocking, truly shocking, that a man as buttoned-down as Detective William Murdoch would ever do such a thing!

The women, both shaking their heads in disbelief and amazement, reveled in it. Fighting to push the words out quickly, Julia exclaimed, "He did the exact same thing back then! I can't believe a fell for it twice. That rascal!"

"It is rather unexpected," Miss James added.

 _He was quite a wonder, her husband, quite a wonder indeed._

) (

As Julia carried William Jr. in her arms and headed down the stairs to William's workroom, she inhaled the scent of the baby's hair and gave him a little kiss. He had done well on her first full-day away at work and it was now nearing his bedtime. Just before she entered the workroom, a memory flashed through her mind. It was so lovely…

 _They had still been living at the hotel, and William had been working diligently on building this house. It was his birthday and she had planned an elaborate surprise for him, hiding out in the very room where he was working right this very moment, she had waited to surprise him in the dark recesses of the secret passageway back behind his desk – the same desk he would be sitting at now… the one that had been the actual_ physical gift _for that day. But the_ real gift _was that she had dressed up in a sexy red outfit, modeled after his descriptions of an enticing dream he had had of her interrogating him – rather roughly she might add – about his relationship with Enid Jones. While hiding out behind the desk in the secret passageway, she had lured him to take a seat at the desk with some rather sexually tantalizing photographs and then she had snuck up on him from behind._ My God _, they had engaged in such passionate lovemaking that day – in that very chair where he would be sitting right now._

His beautiful eyes lifted to meet hers as she stepped into the light of his workroom with the baby. "Ah," he smiled, "my two favorite people." She noticed he put down his pencil.

Bouncing their baby gently in her arms, Julia glanced down at the boy before looking back to her husband. "I thought you might want to spend some 'man time' with your son, detective," she suggested. Her face turned back to the baby and added, "Before this magnificently well-behaved little boy goes to bed."

Remaining seated, William said, "That sounds lovely." His eyes took a final look at the work he had been doing, reminding himself that it was often beneficial to walk away from a problem for a time, anyway.

Right before he stood, Julia rested her buttocks down on the desk. He lifted his head, his expression questioning.

"I was remembering your birthday in here," she said. Oh, it was so magical, the way William ducked his chin down and dropped his eyes away, blushing so quickly with the memory. _He was delicious… absolutely delicious_ , she thought _._

"An exhale surged out of him before he admitted, "Best birthday I ever had." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm glad you chose to purchase such a strong chair," bringing his chocolate brown eyes back up to mingle for a moment with her big blue ones.

"Yes," she agreed with a small chuckle.

William Jr. reached out for his father, delighting both of his parents, and William stood and took the baby in his arms. "Well now, my little man, what say you we go out and look at the stars," he spoke, adult-like, which was certainly William's style, to their son.

Following along, but deciding she would not go outside with them, Julia added, "That will be wonderful, I believe it's a clear night tonight."

"Good," she heard William say. "We can look for Venus… even though that's not really a star at all, just a planet. But it is very, very bright, my little man…"

) (

Later that night, after the baby was fast asleep, William and Julia shared some time together out under the stars as well. Exhilarated by the awe that gazing up at the twinkling points of ancient light stirs deep in one's soul, they headed up to their bedroom for bed. With William right behind her, Julia stepped into the room and flicked on the light switch. He took her by surprise, taking her hand, tugging her back to him with a pleasant spin. Her back bumped against the wall, the sound of the door closing thudded in the air, the light switch clicked, and darkness surrounded them – so fast in succession. And before she even had time to gasp, he took her in a deep, hungry kiss.

 _Oh, she had no defenses against such advances_ , already her head swirling out of control and her knees weak. She completely gave up – she was his, totally his, putty in his hands. _My God, the man could kiss_ , and her womb twisted so delightfully tightly that she felt the coil of it might give way… if she didn't just _slow this down_ … just a little, to relieve just an ounce… of this delicious, delicious, agony of her want for him.

Julia turned away, opened her eyes to see only the shadows of the room. His breathing, rapid and demanding, she felt his readiness against her thigh, so close really, so close, albeit for some clothing. Out of breath her lusty voice squeaked with her excitement, "William," she declared, "I thought you liked to see… when we…"

He had not ceased his invasion, his kisses and nibbles traveling along the contours of her face as she felt her own chest heaving up and down into his. William's strong fingers tucked into her hair, as his thumbs, the flesh calloused and rough, the large size of his hands rendering her face relatively small and delicate within them, caressed her with acute tenderness, stroked along her jaw, her cheeks. Firmly he would hold her in place for his inevitable, devastating kiss.

William's voice resonated in her ear, everything else so dark, making it wonderfully secretive, "I do, Julia… enjoy seeing you. I do. But tonight," a bursting surge of his warm breath flooded over her, "tonight I want to feel you," his body pressed heavy into hers, "and taste you," his mouth engulfed her neck sucking in her savory flesh, releasing it to the cold tingle of the air as he continued, first inhaling deeply, "and smell you… intensely…" Once again, his lips captured hers, and the world rolled over.

His fingers between them, searching for her front buttons, his kisses never letting up, their bodies pumping into the other with anticipation, Julia grew impatient and shoved him back. "Here, let me," she said, madly out of breath, she hurried to unbutton her top. William too, flung off his vest, reached up for his tie in the dark.

"Oh no, William," her voice scolded as she pressed her hand over his and delayed their fury, "The tie is mine. I have claimed it for the rest of your life." Having memorized the motions, not needing the light, she moved backwards through the knots of his tie. Tie gone, unable to stop herself, she grasped at his collar button, undid it in an instant. Julia now would take his neck. The next button gone.

William quickly returned to the task of unbuttoning the last bastion of her top, she felt him slide the fabric off her shoulders… The rush of it all dizzying her beyond her ability to withstand it, she pushed him back once more. Again, she urged herself to _slow the onslaught down_ , swallowing to strengthen her voice, her exposed cleavage in the shadows heaving up and down, she suggested, trying to sound in control, "Perhaps a shower, detective."

" _How very_ _Ishinpō_ ," William's brain reminded him of his Taoist teachings, inducing him to agree with her request to tease themselves mercilessly until they could take the sexual tension no more. "Mm," he moaned, imagining her soapy body sliding along his.

Keeping with the evening's theme, the warm water cascaded down over them in the dim, flickering candlelight from the single candle on the bathroom countertop, the taste of the water in their mouths mixing with the taste of their lover's flesh, so delectable, while down lower the luscious slipperiness of their gliding skin allowed for a deep exploration of the curves and dips of the other. Julia marveled at, upon taking him in hand, her husband's stamina, still so hard, so scrumptiously, scrumptiously hard, her actions prompting him to pin her aggressively against the cold-tiled wall of the shower. Her mind played it out, him pushing into her, shoving himself deeper and deeper into her, and then thrusting with all of his might, his powerful haunches pounding her over the edge. The fantasy weakened her and she dropped.

William held her up, saved her from her fall, with a devilish chuckle in her ear. "I'm afraid you will have to wait, milady," he teased her as he stepped back and rinsed off.

Only briefly did they relish in the heavenly feel of the cool, silky sheets against their freshly cleansed skin, before William pushed the covers away and began his Ishinpō – Warm-front assault. "Prepare yourself doctor," he warned, "for I am going to capture every inch of you, from your head down to your toes…" William shifted his position, turned and crawled down to her feet. "Or should I say from your toes to your head," he corrected, then took a firm hold of her foot, bent her knee, kissed down her long, curvy calf to her ankle.

By the time William had kissed and sucked her over the edge of bliss, the bedsheets had been twisted into little spirals of peeks under the frenzied grasp of her fingers as she had fought to survive the pleasure of his ministrations. The waves of warm, magma-like eruptions all through her body had lasted and lasted, leaving her spent and limp with delicious exhaustion.

He rested his head on her belly, stroked lovingly along the curve of her inner thigh muscle, as he treasured the feeling of her pounding heart against his face. A moment later he traced the scar just above the wiry, curly hairs at the crown of the apex between her legs, such magic because of that scar, their baby, just in the other room, had brought to them.

Still wonderfully limp, Julia said, "Your turn, detective." Knowing her statement was true, but confronting her current weakness, she would need to push herself to…

Crawling up to settle on top of her, resting his pelvis down between her legs, he declared, eyebrow raised, "And I intend to take it."

Certain he knew how passionately his cockiness affected her, she pushed at him, fighting his advances, "Oh no, no, no. You tortured me ruthlessly and now you will get yours, William Henry Murdoch."

Thrilled, he submitted, giving her control, rolling over onto his back, "I'm all yours," he surrendered. His heart beat savagely within his chest as his wife kissed and rubbed and nipped down his flesh, driving him closer and closer to combustion. Her mouth so close, her steamy breath permeated his resolve, racing his mind forward to imagine her mouth around him, so luscious, so unbearable that he would surely rupture. _He had to stop her_. Tried to pull back, reached for her head with his hands, "Julia," his voice warned and begged.

 _Oh, she knew her husband well. He would want a more traditional release in the end. And yet, how much more amazing that end would be if her were pushed right to the brink…_

"Then you will have to hold back… Keep it under control, William," she demanded.

 _Oh my God, the world spun, with her fingers around him, her breath on him, her mouth, so warm, so lusciously slippery, surrounding him with her rhythm, my God, she knows it, knows the cadence so perfectly, what to touch, how firmly, how long…_

"Julia, please… I want..." his appeal came. He bucked up into her, gritting his teeth with the astounding effort to hold back. He tried to think of something else, but the reminder to do so seemed to come too late. _He was going to burst._

Suddenly, she stopped, released him to the cold air. Changed positions. Her voice in his ear. "You want me, hmm?"

 _The world could not plummet any faster, his brain could not swirl into soup this way for one second more. The way she jiggled when she moved over him, my God, she was so beautiful, he marveled at her curvy figure in the golden lamp-light…_

She lifted one of her long legs over to the other side of him, rose up on her knees above him, straddling him, mounting him. Her hand took a hold of his very being, his tip touching her wetness, prompting him to flip with desperation, a tiny squeak escaping his throat.

" _Lovely, my God he is lovely_ ," Julia thought. She lowered down around him, bathing him, drenching him, inside of her body as he opened her, slid into her, filled her. Stillness, a hesitation before she would move, in just the right way to bring him to his knees. But then, an image of him on top of her flashed through her brain, conjuring up his hunky buttocks pounding away at her, and it was beyond delicious. Oh, she wanted _**that**_ , and she knew he wanted _**that**_ too. Her hands pressed firmly into his stomach, glided up, heavy, pushing, rubbing, up his body, up the curve of his pectoral muscles, catching over his nipples, as she leaned forward, slid her fingers under his neck, scratched into his scalp. Her hot, soft body pressed down into his. "Take me," her whisper found his ear, holding on for dear life.

 _Oh, he would_. She felt the mattress under her back before she felt the gravity shift as he flipped her. Fiercely he made love to her, with wild abandon. In that moment, there was nothing in the world except the need to touch her deeper, closer – her essential spot within reach, so close. With everything he had he thrust into her, powered by her cries of urgency for him, "William please, please…" her words collapsing into whimpers of desperation, devastating moans, and grunts of effort, the boundaries of which lured her, for if her insides sucked him up any harder, any longer, she would surely implode.

And then it announced itself, with the subtlest of pauses in the excruciating tension – relief would come, intolerable, inconsolable pleasure would rock her. It was unavoidable…

William's moan so delicious in her ear as he rushed the last hurdle and plunged into ecstasy inside of her, each thrust slowing but stretching deeper, touching her, finally touching her, perfectly, absolutely perfectly, as it should be, as it had to be, they were one.

! ! ! . . .

And afterwards, expended and consumed, their world floated and rocked around them as they waited together for their hearts to land, and fought the worry that they would never be able to catch their breath. Heavy above her, on her, in her still, William kissed and kissed and kissed her supple, warm face, "I love you, Julia. I love you so much I feel my heart will explode," he promised. Then, after having regained sufficient strength, he pushed up, to lift away the burden of his weight on her, to roll them over, to provide more air.

"Not yet, please, not yet," Julia's voice called, with a tinge of stress…

And he knew… she would begin to cry. He released his grip on her shoulders, the ruggedness of which was likely to have left marks, and shifted to press an elbow down into the mattress underneath her to then lift his chest up off her so he would be better able to see her face. Her tears had come, and with them her face was pink and wrinkly with emotion. He cupped her cheek, then stroked her face with his thumb, twirled and fiddled with one of her curls, softly kissed her lips again, letting the salty taste of her submerge into him.

She explained, with such a tender squeakiness in her voice, "It's just I am so utterly exhausted, and have been so thoroughly loved by you, William." Julia's body started to shake as her crying intensified. "How is it possible that anyone could love me so much," she asked in disbelief of her good fortune, and her crying dropped away into quivering sobs.

 _She had had a hard day,_ he reasoned _, leaving William Jr. behind without his mother to go to work. He had feared she would feel guilty, be prone to think of herself as not being a good mother for leaving him so, he had worried she would see herself as being selfish to choose her career…_

"William…" her voice called.

"Mm," he was there.

Having to swallow, and breathe, for she was overrun with emotion, Julia said, "Those flowers, William… They helped, so much. That was such a sweet… _perfect thing_ to do for me…"

"Good," his reassuring voice cascaded into her ear and he showered her with more kisses as she went on.

"It felt so awful, like such a betrayal to leave him like I did," she fell backwards into the storm of her emotions.

"I know, I know," he soothed.

"That helpless, innocent little baby…" her squeak rose in pitch.

"He was fine, Julia. He did very well today, all things considered," William said as he kissed her face again, "You said it yourself." His voice in her ear once more, he asked for her to concede, "hmm?"

"Yes," her voice scratched, merely a whisper.

After a while, her crying subsided and he whispered, with his tone somehow off – cocky, with a twinge of mischief, "And the whoopee cushion… am I forgiven?"

He felt her smile grow against his cheek.

"You took me completely by surprise," she moved underneath him, pushed against him, prompting him to roll over onto his back now, ready for him to bring her up on top of him. "Such a prank from _you_ , you detective, is quite unexpected… And I cannot believe I fell for it – _twice_ ," she feigned anger, and then gave him a playful shove in the chest, "and with Miss James right there…" she started to laugh momentarily slowing her speaking, "to… hear it," she pushed out.

"Was she?" William asked, joining in the chuckle.

Happy, they lay together, her head resting on his chest. She basked in the sensations of the vibrations under her ear, under her cheek, as he spoke, "You should know, Julia, that I too feel guilty about wanting you to return to work," he revealed. Julia lifted her head, met his eyes. He assured, "But I do," he cleared his throat to be able to say it clearly, "I do… want you back at work. I… the work you do as a pathologist," he stressed, " _my_ pathologist," he raised an eyebrow at her, then wrinkled his face to admit it was true, "it's invaluable to me."

Tears welled in her eyes again, with the relief of not being alone with the burden of it, of not being solely responsible for the decision.

"Shh," he encouraged her, his fingers caressing her cheek, "Our little man is doing quite well," William elaborated, "He is, and he will continue to be, a happy, bright baby, with loving and attentive parents who will stimulate him and nurture him and guide him through the ups and downs of his life… He's being brought up in a _modern family_ ," his hand rubbed her back, "and we are blessed to be able to afford, and to have found, such a warm and caring nanny as Claire-Marie, hmm?"

She nodded, and with a sniffle, she dropped her head back down on his chest, gave him an appreciative squeeze. Then William reached over and turned out the lamp, and let the intimacy of the darkness envelope them together. The modern Murdoch family all soon slumbered peacefully through the night.

) ( Three Weeks Later

It was his father who had put him into bed this night, tucked him in, stayed with him quietly until his breathing told that he had drifted off. Routinely, William Jr. slept through the night, and so his parents felt safe in engaging in lovemaking on a regular basis before they themselves succumbed to sleep. And, so it was tonight as well.

William, being the more assertive one of the couple this particular evening, had managed to pin his wife against the bathroom door and to kiss her with sufficient passion to render her weak in his arms. They _had_ been brushing their teeth, each already dressed in their pajamas for the night. Julia had teased, wondering aloud why they bothered to put their nightclothes on at all when it was all but certain that the various articles of sleepwear would ultimately be flung all over the floor anyway. Her sarcasm had only charged her husband with more lust, and, he would have claimed if asked, had spurred their current state of heavy breathing and wriggling and writhing against the bathroom door.

While Julia clamored to undo his pajama-top buttons, William reached down and began gathering up her nightgown, exposing more and more of her long, luscious legs in the process. Once he had reached the height of her waist with the white, wrinkled fabric, her complete nakedness revealed from under the gown, she had collapsed with need, hastily releasing one of the only remaining buttons on his pajama-top and wrapping her arms around his neck to stabilize her wobbliness. He pressed in, _hard_ , against her, only sending her into a more profoundly dizzying spiral.

"William," her sultry voice slipped into his head. The images of what he wanted jolted through his mind, erupted the surge of his groin as it reached for her familiar warm suppleness, yearned to feel her to completely surround him. He had seen it in a flash– her nightgown twisted and secured around her wrists, her arms roughly plunged above her head, the nightgown tethers hooked to the towel-rack on the back of the door. Her scrumptious, delicious body, heaving out of breath, helpless before him, those magnificently jouncy and wiggly curves… he would take her, hard and demandingly…

It announced, at first, sounding as if it was from far-off… unidentifiable because it did not make sense. The baby had cried out from his crib in his room.

Immediately their romantic, hungry gyrations ceased as they each listened intently. "He doesn't usually do that?" Julia asked. The beginning of the tiny boy's crying rattled and grew into a more full-fledged bout, alerting and calling for his parents.

Already moving towards the door, William said, "I'll get him." Behind him, Julia pushed her nightgown back down into place, then fought the urge to follow in his wake. _She trusted William to comfort their child._ Turning back to the sink, she pushed herself to finish preparing for bed. William's voice, soothing and calm, echoed from down the hall. Yet… the baby's crying did not subside.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw William with the baby pass by the bathroom door, their son still crying, albeit without quite as much emergency. When she stepped out of the bathroom, her husband was sitting on the edge of their bed, the baby on his knee. He was trying to bounce the baby. "Shh," he whispered to the boy.

Alarm blared within her.

William lifted his eyes to meet hers, her mouth agape with worry and concern and surprise. He took a deep breath, fighting against his own anxiety. "He seems hot," William said.

Julia hurried over to sit on the bed next to him. William Jr. looked directly into his mother's eyes, reached out towards her. _He wanted his Mommy._

 _Not conscious of his thoughts of being second best_ , William lifted him over to her and Julia scooped the baby into her arms. His crying, however, continued.

William watched as his wife showered the infant with her nurturing. He found himself imagining, _almost remembering, perhaps from his own subconscious memories of being mothered as a youngster,_ the comforting sensations of her warm, soft body soothing him, of her reassuring voice, familiar and cozy surrounding him, cascading over him and enveloping him in the promise of safety. In her arms, that tiny, dependent infant, gazed up through his tears into her beautiful, grounding big eyes, so familiar, so implanted from all the time together nursing, and William knew, felt it in his bones, that there was nothing better in the world than to be loved so.

Julia's fingers slipped into the infant's black, thick hair and rubbed and scratched his warm scalp. Her lips kissed his forehead, she too, finding that he was too warm. "William," she called him out of his thoughts, "Could you get the thermometer? I think he has a fever."

Quickly in the bathroom, he opened the drawer in the bathroom cupboard, shifting items here and there within it, searching for the thermometer. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest. He spotted it! " _Calm down, William,"_ he coached himself, " _Babies get sick sometimes. Besides, you married a phenomenal doctor, Thank God._ " He took another deep breath, looked at himself in the mirror. Held his own eyes and pulled his lips tight. He gave himself a nod, feeling re-centered.

It was unexpected, but he returned to discover that Julia was quite upset, her voice arriving in a squeak, "I think he's… what if he… Oh, William, I couldn't bear it, if he… were to die!"

Ironically, it was now William who would have to work to reassure and calm Julia. His dark, warm chocolate eyes met hers and he waxed philosophical, "From the moment I heard him, watched him, thanked God that he did it… took his first breath, barely even noticing the disgusting taste, the unpleasant pasty feel of the mucousy nose plugs in my mouth ( _his rare experience reminding Julia of the uncommon role William had played in delivering their son_ ), I knew profoundly that there would also come a time when he would take his _last_ breath, as well. And from that moment on, my life would never be the same – once this baby had breathed," William's eyes fell to William Jr. who was no longer crying, "For since that one breathtaking moment, I was destined to do everything in my power to make his life worth living." William slipped his fingers into the baby's dark hair, and brought his eyes back to Julia's. He sighed and added solemnly, "And, Julia, the trepidation of it is that there's always a chance he'll die… More than I had ever been aware of it before, I knew from that moment, as his father, that that's what happened the moment he took his first bre…"

"But it could happen sooner now, because he got sick… and because I stopped nursing him, so he wasn't as strong as he needed to be to fight the contagion off," she panicked and blamed herself.

Julia's voice had reached a breathless, scratchy pitch that tugged urgently at William's heartstrings. The tension, the pressure inside of him threatened to topple him over the edge. Taking a big, deep, breath first, he handed her the thermometer. Then he crouched down to unsnap the baby's 'apron creeper' – the invention being a dual effort on the part of the baby's parents, consisting of an older infant boy's 'short dress' with rows of snaps on the hem between the legs that allow for better access when changing a diaper.

"Lots of babies get the flu and are fine, Julia," William reasoned, now removing the diaper pins.

"And some die," she replied, a peppering of anger lowering the tenor of her voice.

"Most don't," his firm voice insisted as his brown eyes rose to fix to hers with a sincere steadiness that prompted her to take a deep breath.

"Yes," she nodded quickly, "You're right," she answered him, then raising the corners of her mouth, her expression thanking him.

William smiled back at her and then signaled for her to hand him the baby. He held William Jr. while Julia took off his diaper and, being the doctor of the team, inserted the thermometer in the baby's rectum. Both parents standing together, the baby in William's arms, their attention returned to their son. Julia gently rubbed the baby's forehead. "So much better now that you're not crying, hmm, little one?" she asked with a tender kiss to his head.

"Such a brave little man about the thermometer too," William praised.

After removing the thermometer, Julia reported the reading. "103," she said.

William felt himself holding his breath, wondering, for it was not apparent with his wife's tone, whether that was as high as it sounded to him. He watched her, looked to her for an indication…

A business-like, deep breath, Julia said, "It's quite high, although it is not uncommon for children's fevers to run higher than those of adults."

William nodded.

In her head, Julia was of two minds, one confident that she knew what to do to care for their ill baby, the other barreling towards panic. Not wanting to frighten William, she decided to make herself busy. She would distract herself for just a moment, go into the bathroom and clean off the thermometer.

William glanced down on the bed at the diaper, it was still dry, perhaps he could…

Not making it past the bathroom doorway, Julia turned back. Bordering on hysterical she squeaked out, "Maybe it would be better to have another doctor for him, one a little less, _attached_."

William sucked in the inside of one of his cheeks and teased sarcastically with a raised eyebrow, "A _**LITTLE**_."

Immediately his wife feigned fury, bopping him with a quick shove in his shoulder.

"Ouch," he overreacted slightly.

"I can't help it, William," she argued.

"You can," his unruffled voice instantly countered. Feeling her eyes on him, he spread the diaper out on the bed and lay William Jr. down on top of it, then began the task of putting it back on while he advised, "You just need to calm down and get yourself into the mindset of a doctor." His eyes glanced over at her vanity and he said, "Try sitting at a bit of a distance for a minute, like you're at your desk back in the clinic…"

Julia moved to the vanity and sat in the chair. " _He's right. Of course, he's right_ ," she coached herself.

Before getting to diagnosing and treating their son, he recommended, "Think of specific babies you have treated back when you had your medical practice. Babies with the flu – but Julia," he interrupted himself, his eyes lifting to hers, "as a favor to me, think of babies that _did not_ die please," he requested with a winsome smile.

" _Sounds fair,"_ she thought. _Julia remembered a boy about the same age as William Jr. who had also had a high temperature. He had gotten better…_

"Young Arthur Blackwood," she said aloud. _It was working_ , just having a real baby who had had similar symptoms who had ended being fine and healthy was reassuring her.

"What were his symptoms?" William asked.

She nodded. Her confidence flooding back in, she replied, "Fever…"

"How high?" he asked.

An exasperated burst of air flared out of her nostrils, "I don't remember exactly, William," she charged. Under her breath she scolded, " _Even if you would."_

Ignoring her irritation, he added, "What else?" pushing her to get back on focus.

She ran through her memories, _"A high fever… he was crying and fussy…"_

"Oh," she thought of something aloud, "He had a rash, on his belly."

Diapering job complete and, as usual, perfect, William said, "That comes with a high fever, does it not?"

"Yes," she exclaimed. Then worry struck her again, "Does he have one?" she asked starting to stand, her voice once more moving towards squeaking, revealing her emotional shift.

William was already checking, lifting the baby's creeper to examine his midsection. "No," he answered.

They shared a look, relief on her face. William dropped his gaze. Julia sat back down. He was hiding it, but he was relieved too. It stirred in him a little, how grateful he was that he had married her. "Name another," he proposed.

"Actually William, there were many… of course," she conceded, giving him a knowing grin. He picked up William Jr. and came over to her.

Julia sighed and then asked, "Do you think all those mothers loved their babies like I love him?"

Leaning his buttocks down on the vanity top, William replied, "I do."

She reached over and rubbed the baby's chubby little thigh. "I had no idea…" she explained shaking her head, "…no idea what it was like. I was always so… impatient, with their overreactions… Well not impatient, just sort of patronizing," she wrinkled a corner of her mouth fighting a pang of guilt.

He chuckled, lightening her heart. "I would wager you were much less so than your male counterparts are," he suggested.

"You're probably right about that," she agreed, thinking of many of the condescending, arrogant, and frankly, ignorant comments she had heard from so many male doctors in the past. Julia stood in front of him and cupped her husband's cheek appreciatively. "Thank you William," she said simply. Then, standing up taller, she looked down at the baby in his arms. "A cool sponge bath, I would think… to bring your temperature down," she prescribed.

) (

The next day, Julia stayed home from the morgue and cared for William Jr. even though they were in the midst of a murder investigation. The baby seemed to be quickly on the mend, his temperature down to 101 degrees, not as fussy. He had slept much more than usual throughout the day, and Julia felt comfortable going back to work after that.

Later that night, William Jr. sleeping well, comfortably, after a sponge bath before they tucked him in, William lay in the bed waiting for her to finish up her nightly routine and join him. He spotted her flower-covered journal on her night-table and wondered if she had been reading it in bed during the day, or maybe she intended to read it to him now…

"I had something I had put in it, that I wanted to read again," she pulled his eyes up from the journal to gaze into hers. Lifting her nightgown up over her knees, she crawled into bed and sat up cross legged, then leaned over and leafed through the journal, pulling out a note.

William recognized it, from just a few weeks ago when he had left flowers for her on her desk in the morgue, on the day she was having a hard time because it was William Jr.'s first full day without her. She shifted her position, lay down nestling in right next to him and propping herself up on an elbow. He draped the sheet over her, taking her in with him.

"What have you there?" he asked as he moved to mirror her position.

She unfolded it answering, "A note from you, husband." Her eyes still down on William's handwriting, she smiled with his touch, first grasping one of her curls, then rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "A very lovely note from you," she repeated.

His fingers settled under her chin, lifted her face to his. It was inevitable that he would kiss her, the kiss delightful, soft, slow, his fingers tracing her ear, tangling into her hair.

The kiss broke off. There was a pause. "Would you read it to me?" she asked.

Julia moved back to give him room between them to hold out the note. William read.

" _I was always right about you, Julia – about what a remarkable mother you would be, even when I knew you doubted it yourself… And I want you to know that, for William Jr. and for my future children…"_

There William paused and lifted his face to raise an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I intended the word 'children,' for I will remind you, I have made it clear that I will always want one more child than you agree to have," he expounded.

"Yes," she smiled at him, "So you have said."

He returned to the note.

" _And I want you to know that, for William Jr. and my future children, be they born or adopted, I wholeheartedly congratulate myself for choosing you. You astound me, Julia, with your warmth, compassion, wit, strength, creativity, resilience and integrity. Loving you, being loved by you, has made me a better man, does so every day, and I know that so too it will be, as it already is, for our children. You have always said we make a good team, and I wanted to make sure you knew, especially on a day like today when we have set out together to make the best world we can for our modern family, I wanted you to know… that I do too. And I wanted to take this opportunity to remind you that I always knew it… to get a chance to say, "I told you so."_

"Smarty-pants," she charged rewarding him with a playful push. Taking the note from him, then sidling closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, she asked, "So detective, you truly feel that our trailblazing, pioneering ways will make for healthy and happy children?"

"I do," he answered. "Our children, be they boys or girls, will have parents that model an unwavering respect and valuing of each other, and of the children as well I suspect, an equality that is rare… and important, because it renders both value of self and value of the other," he explained.

"Sounds wise," she agreed. Hesitating to follow her thoughts, Julia then said, "And you did tell me so… about your beliefs in my being a good mother, um despite being a strong woman who values a career, among other things, outside of the home…"

"Julia, I'm arguing that it is not _despite_ those things, rather it is in part _due to_ those things that you will be a wonderful mother for them. Let our son grow up seeing women as capable and strong as well as generous and nurturing, perhaps even more so for our daughters," he added with passion.

She sat up, once again crossing her legs, leaving her bare legs out in the open. "Yes, yes, I do agree with you. And I am so happy that you feel that way," she said. She turned and looked over at her journal, released a sigh, then brought her eyes down on the note in her hands, fiddling and adoring the paper. "I never thought it was possible, William," she said so quietly he had to strain to hear her. She felt him shift his weight, to sit up and pull one leg under him, now right in front of her. Playing with the note in her lap, her volume even lower now that he was closer, "I had my reasons," she said.

Without a word, he let her know he was there with her, gathered up the curls of her long hair together, tucking them back away from her face. " _Reasons_ ," he considered, " _that she thought she would not be a good mother…_ "

Her eyes lifted to his, with a subtle pleading. Seeing his compassion for her, she smiled.

"Sounds somewhat ominous," he said quietly.

"Perhaps," she answered.

His mind shouted it at him, " _Her abortion!"_ Once again he found that this one thing, which had been _put behind them_ time and time again, loomed large in their present. The memory of it, the thought of it, always accompanied with anxiety and distress, had been under so much of their strife. He knew, but reason argued he could be wrong, that _**it**_ was what she was referring to.

Julia watched him, his wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes of his. She would say it, brave the consequences. "I find that having William Jr.," she started, "makes me, sometimes…" but then she dropped her eyes away and stopped.

" _Harder than she thought,_ " he wondered. _He so wanted her to trust him_. William tilted his head to the side working to catch her eyes.

She raised her chin back up to him, smiled. Her eyes wide, so deeply blue, stunning, she went on, "I find that I think of the baby… the baby I would have had…" she swallowed and turned away momentarily, too much emotion in her voice, before she returned her gaze, "if I hadn't had the abortion." _Oh, she looked for it, his judgment of her, the absence of it on his face prompting a sigh of relief_. "I must say," she continued stronger, "I didn't expect that."

Not surprised she would make such connections, and further that she herself would not have anticipated them, he nodded.

She pulled her lips tight, almost a smile. "I wonder sometimes, if I would have loved that baby as much as I love William Jr.?"

William cupped her cheek, "How could you not?" he asked.

Julia shrugged, "I think, maybe because it wouldn't have been yours…"

"Julia," he interrupted her, "We have made plans to adopt. I think we still do," he checked.

She nodded.

"Surely you will love them as much," he argued.

She took his face in her hands. "Yes, a 'close-knit' family…"

He looked deeper into her eyes with a hint of being perplexed, " _My exact words?_ " his mind flashed the memory.

"That's what you said… what you said that you wanted, because your own family life had been so erratic," she added. Then she teased, "You're not the only one who can remember exact details around here detective."

Gallantly, he gave her a charismatic bow. With a devilish smirk, he added, "Then I don't need to remind you about the dog?"

She laughed. Shaking her head at his tenacity, advising herself that it could be put off a while longer, she reassured, "Yes husband, I do remember."

Julia reached over and collected her journal. His note had been put in a specific page, the page still marked in the journal, with a folded-up newspaper clipping.

He recognized the photograph under the portion of the headline that read, " _Romance and Parenting..."_ It was Mabel Merton's story, the photo of the two of them from only about a week after Julia had returned to work at the morgue. A dead body in the background, a reporter had flashed a picture of them at a crime scene as Julia gave him a kiss. The story had taken-off like wildfire, inflaming debate over a mother working outside of the home. Miss Merton's story had been favorable, admiring the _groundbreaking and companionate approach_ to raising a family being taken by Dr. Ogden and her forward-looking husband. Others not so much.

She would read it to him. It would explain.

 _William asked me today, if I wanted a family. I told him that I did –_ _I chickened out_ _… I can't do this without crying. I_ _do_ _want a family… And it's something I'll never have, and I'd made my life without it fine before him. I couldn't be a good mother anyway…_

Julia hesitated in her reading to rush to swallow before she pushed on, really getting to the point.

"… _how could I be if I would abort my baby?"_

William felt his ears start ringing with stress. _She just said what he had always figured, that she doubted her ability to be a good mother because she had chosen to have an abortion._ His heart raced with the revelation. He strived to pay attention, to listen, refocusing on Julia's words.

 _I guess the truth is I still can't believe William ever wanted to be with me, at all, after he had learned of my abortion. And I must say, now I fear I will never be able to forgive myself for_ _not telling him_ _the_ _whole_ _of it then… ever. Right now, I am beyond not knowing what to do, this has gotten to full-fledged panic now, emergency – it is intolerable. I see no way out, not without hurting him._

Pausing for a breath, she kept her eyes down on her words.

 _William's eyes sparkled and twinkled so beautifully as he described the Inspector's attitude towards cases like this one he just solved – called it 'romantic' that a now_ _old_ _man had unintentionally killed his and his siblings' abusive guardians when he was a very young child, and then they all had been raised_ _as a family_ _by the oldest children – whom the boy had tried to save by trading their 'disappearing potion' with a tonic belonging to the guardians, ultimately accidently killing them. William was so excited as he agreed that he wanted a family, even ventured some self-reflection, quite insightful I might add, about how he figured it was because his own family life as a child had been so, "erratic that it made him want a close-knit family of his own."_

A tiny smile slipped on Julia's face as she read the quote to him. His heart flipped, pumping a burst of heat through him with her quick, boastful glance. He took a deep breath, intensifying, emboldening the embers.

Julia took a breath and returned to reading.

 _I told him he deserves such happiness. And he does, he truly, truly does!_

 _And that's when it happened, he sensed it – he is really quite amazing, perceptive. He sensed it, my hesitation. He said I deserved such happiness too, and then he saw it, and his jaw dropped a bit, and I saw him, he worried before he ventured it – "If that's what you want." So directly he asked me, "Is that what you want?" And I thought about it…_

As she read, Julia shook her head with the memories, feeling all over again the panic of needing to deny the truth. Going back to her reading, her voice squeaked with the emotion of it.

 _I really thought about it, about telling him the worst of it then. And I just could not, and now I just cannot live with myself for not telling him. And I truly don't know if I can live without him either, which would surely happen if he knew I could not have his child, and it seems to come down to whether I love him enough to tell him the truth_ _and lose him_ _, and my God, I think I do, but then, it seems I can't…_

After waiting a moment with the silence, she told him, solemnly, "It stops there."

William fidgeted, unable to hide the fact that what he was thinking, what he was considering saying, was uncomfortable, risky. He was battling with it, listening to the two different voices fight it out in his head. True, in the past they had resolved the issue of any connection between her abortion and her mothering. The most recent time had been when they were considering adopting and Julia brought up her concerns about being a good mother. At that time she had made it clear that her decision to have the abortion had been shaped by events and context from that time in her younger life, and that she _did not_ , in the present, believe it was her decision to abort her child that had made her doubt her ability to mother a child well now…

But, William's mind countered, she had just revealed by what she had written in her journal _, long before_ they had argued about her fears of not being a good mother when they were first trying to decide whether to adopt, back before she had even gotten pregnant with William Jr., that her thoughts that she couldn't be a good mother were at least in part _because_ she had chosen to abort her child. It was occurring to William that it had not been quite as resolved as they had thought it was. And he was also remembering the potency of the fight they had had about it back then, all of it rousing up in him a good dose of dread.

"William," her voice broke his musings. He joined her with his eyes. She disclosed her secrets, "I had always believed, sometimes consciously, but mostly I hid the unpleasantness of it away from myself, that my sterility and the subsequent lack of my being able to be a wife and a mother, were a type of retribution, or fate, some sort of payback, on a karmic level, perhaps even a punishment from God, for my decision to have an abortion."

 _How desperate her expression became, the pain causing him to shake his head, wishing on some level to stop her._

Her voice squeaked on, "But, then…" and tears filled her eyes, "Then it was hurting you." The words flew out of her, their agony and horrible guilt and suffering blatantly revealed with her unbearable love for him. "It was so unfair. I just couldn't bear the burden of it, that my horrid choice would cost you so much…"

He could not deny that it had been at the center of so much of the hard times they had had. And he was also struck by the sheer irony of it all. "Julia," he posed, wiping away a tear, "Do you also think that the fact that you _did_ get pregnant, and we _did_ have a child after all, means that you are no longer being punished for the decision?"

 _Oh, such big questions now! Did she believe in God? In God as one who would punish such a decision, and then somehow…_ what was the thinking, _because they had both suffered sufficiently, now he would release them from her burden?_ The consequences of it all, so profound and unreasonable, the whole thing made her dizzy and nauseous with angst. She certainly did not believe these things – AND she certainly did?

"Oh God, William!" she declared, "I don't know. Do you?"

Taking very little time to reflect on it, he responded, "I suppose I do."

Her sigh had an air of frustration with it. "It is so illogical," she said, the irony of saying such a thing about a statement made by William Murdoch not escaping her notice. She elaborated on her point, her voice's pitch giving away her vexation, "This whole idea of confessing your sins and repentance, the point of it all eludes me." She felt the urge to move, turned and put her journal back on the night-table. There was a warning inside of her, to be careful with William's faith, but she pushed it aside and dared speak her mind. She plopped back into her spot sitting next to him on the mattress cross-legged and complained, "And it makes God seem so petty, this notion of God passing judgment and punishing one so. Honestly William…"

He braced as her tone became more confrontational and sarcastic.

Her magnificent blue eyes held to his as she mocked, "I wonder if He would have passed the same judgment on me, granted me the same forgiveness, if I just said a thousand or so Hail Mary's."

His feelings whipped up, he almost was speechless, yet William heard himself respond, "Julia…"

Already she regretted it.

"Please… Please William, let me say I'm sorry," she said, his look of puzzlement throwing her off. Suspecting she had just these few next words to make it right, she wished she had time to think, but knew she did not. "Even with not being raised in your faith..." she saw him take a breath, felt hope, "there is still a part of me that believes it is true, um… that God… that He knew what I had done." _This next part would be harder, she warned herself sensing the clouds moving in_. "That He disapproved…" Suddenly, her eyes grew bright, "But I also always thought God would understand. That he would know my plight and…" _Oh, she felt the collapsing of hope again. It was such a tangled mess and she thought, perhaps, she couldn't possibly express all the conflicting things she had felt in the turmoil of her decision, did feel even now, about all of this._

"Julia," he called her, his voice somehow offering an anchor. "All this uncertainty, it is unavoidable in life. And it is only human to encounter it and get spiraled up in it," he said. Exhaling, he regrouped. "And even with my faith, I feel it too, being at once seemingly of two minds," he admitted with his customary wrinkle at a corner of his mouth. "But my faith in God, and the Church, has served me well…"

She nodded, slid closer. "It has," she agreed.

More confident, grateful she was with him, he went on, "And whether our good fortune is due to God's actions or chance, we both share in the knowledge that these things should not be taken for granted…"

She nodded again, stronger.

"We cherish them. And in the end, I believe that is what matters," he concluded.

"Yes," she agreed. "And as to whether or not, or even how if accepting that it does, my abortion impacts upon my mothering, I must say that I don't feel it harmed my ability to nurture, to care for, our children… my children," her eyes lifted to his, "I truly felt love erupt the moment that baby was in my arms, and I had no choice but to love him with all of my heart." His smile warmed her, prompting her to add, "As I know it did with you as well."

Feeling more resolved now, she reached over and turned out her lamp. William lay down and turned out his lamp as well. Julia took her favorite place in all the world, lying down next to him and resting her head on his chest. In the darkness their thoughts danced about.

Julia reheard her sarcastic words, feeling the probable sting of their belittling of William's practice of Confession and penitence. She sighed and said, "I know, William, that I don't wholly understand your faith… And I'm sorry, about what I said about Confession."

She waited, his response taking longer than she had expected. She sensed he was wearing a slight frown.

"I don't… Julia, repentance, as experienced in the presence of God, well, it is a sincere turning away, in both the mind and heart, from self to God. It is not done lightly, um, as you implied," he said.

He felt her nod against him and take a breath before she said, "Because I know you, I know it is true."

"Good," he replied. William's hand slid down along the wrinkled fabric of her nightgown, lusciously discovering her nakedness below it. "Now," he whispered devilishly in the dark, "I have something else, completely, that I would like to confess…"

Her voice sultry, she asked, "And what is that husband?" Her long leg slipped over him as he lifted her nightgown even higher, and she felt a delicious jolt of electricity charge her womb with her encountering of his rigid groin.

"Miss Merton's story," his voice whispered in her ear.

"Mm-hmm?" she asked, the buttons of his pajama-top surrendering fast.

A nibble, a kiss. Heat flaring, dizziness and lust sweeping them away.

"The headline, and the photograph of us…" he was working for the words now as she sat up, letting him pull her nightgown over her head, and she was so breathtakingly naked. He struggled, wondering if he would even be able to remember his point – _something about their public kiss and her saying they were passionate, and him secretly liking it_ …

"Romance and Parenting in a Modern Family," she recited the title of Mabel Merton's article.

William's top was on the floor, her fingers had hold of the string of his pajama bottoms. A snug tug.

"Mm," he agreed – or was it a moan?

With that he rolled her onto her back and accepted that the words were gone. Detective Murdoch would love Dr. Ogden well, very well, that night… And truth be told, they were well on their way to becoming a modern family, come what may.


	24. Almost the First Picnic

Journal Journeys_ _Almost_ the First Picnic

In anticipation of the arrival of the doctor and the detective at the end of their workday, Eloise was busy in the hot kitchen while Claire-Marie played with William Jr. in the living room. Claire-Marie marveled at the 9-month old baby's astuteness as the boy repeatedly turned his eyes towards the foyer, seemingly looking for his parents. She had fallen head over heels in love with this baby, admittedly with the whole Murdoch family – particularly the detective. Fortunately, she had managed to get a handle on her crush on the man. It had been helpful in this endeavor, that she found the doctor herself so intriguing.

" _It's no wonder,_ " she thought to herself as she once again prepared to capture the rapidly crawling tyke who was headed for the front door, _"that the child would be so bright… look at who he came from."_ William Jr. doubled his crawling speed once he had an inkling that Claire-Marie was again in pursuit. She had just managed to scoop him up in her arms when she heard their voices on the front porch.

Their debate was lively, and technical – about some evidence in a case they were working on no doubt – something about identifying the body with only a femur… The detective's voice betrayed his irritation while he told the doctor that he found that obstacle to be only one of the annoying problems with this case. The metallic jangling of the key sounded in the door…

The detective pushed the door opened and invited his wife through. Julia's excited voice rang out, "What a pleasant surprise!" at the unexpected sight of her baby boy in his nanny's arms right in front of her.

"It's amazing, doctor, but he seems to know exactly when you're going to get home," Claire-Marie exclaimed.

Hanging his signature homburg on its peg, William explained, "Well, at least his mother tends to be consistent in her schedule. I guess he is a good observer of patterns." With his words, he offered a slight wrinkle at the corner of his mouth, endearing both of the ladies.

Julia recognized the gesture as humbleness, for she knew William would expect his son to share in his own remarkable detecting skills, and she knew it would be uncomfortable for him to outright brag about it so, thus requiring the facial expression to dampen his showy pride. She would egg him on, perhaps even be rewarded with a blush if she played her cards right.

"It seems our son has inherited more than just his gorgeous eyes from his father, hmm?" she teased, taking the baby in her arms, speaking to the boy.

Failing to conceal her enthusiasm, Claire-Marie added, "His handsome dark hair too…"

Prompting a sly smile to curl on Julia's face before she said, "Yes… that too." She stifled a giggle, for it turned out that now there were two rushes of crimson-tinted faces illuminating the room. Sparing both of the blushers, she changed the subject, "And how was our little one today?" she asked, giving the baby a playful bounce.

Later, after the family had enjoyed Eloise's tuna casserole, and William and Julia had played and bounced and sat with William Jr. on the front porch, and the Sun had set, and the stars had come out, and they had showed the baby the moon, and they had fed the little one a bottle and burped him, and changed him, they finally tucked him in. They would have an hour or two now, before they would need to go to sleep. Sometimes the couple read, or talked, sometimes William worked on a project while Julia worked on a paper she was researching or presenting, sometimes William worked out with his weights.

But now, the baby's door pulled within a tiny crack of closed behind them, they stood together in the upstairs hallway, pausing together in the dim light. Both tired, and both feeling the surges of gratitude for their good fortune that tended to well up when they shared their love and care for their baby, they melted into an embrace. Arm in arm they headed for the stairs.

Julia stopped in front of their bedroom door, bumped her husband's back up against the wall and said, her voice low, "I know you're disappointed about the case William." Her lips moved closer to his ear, "I have some advice," she enticed, "Why don't you take advantage of that wonderful standing bath you made for our house, hmm?" she asked.

Her breath glided down his neck, as would the warm, soothing water showering over his skin. The suggestion prompted him to take a deep breath, imagining the pleasure, the release of the pressure. He dropped his head back, let it thump against the wall as he felt the relaxation flood through him. "I knew there was a reason I married you," he half teased and half moaned. So happy, he felt so happy, feeling her smile curl on her lips in the cradle of his neck in response to his words.

 _It was Friday. The best day of the week was tomorrow – Saturday. The Murdoch's could spend the whole day together. Eloise had the day off. Claire-Marie had the day off. It was just the three of them, for breakfast, for lunch, and for dinner – all day._

William removed his last piece of clothing and then stepped into the warm, heavenly downpour of water. He replayed their earlier conversation, when Julia had convinced him that the vexing, frustrating case they were working on could wait until Monday. " _She really is a fantastic wif_ e," he told himself reveling in the enveloping sensuality of the flood. He reached up, rubbed the water into his hair, lifted his chin to the torrents of the water, tasted the freshness of it as it moved through and out of his mouth…

The sound of the metal shower rings along the pole near the ceiling pulled his attention. " _Oh_ ," his breath flooded out of his nostrils with the knowledge of it, " _Julia's joining me!_ " He tilted his head back out of the stream and opened his eyes. His magnificent wife, naked, curvy, jiggly, stepped in with him, those magnetic blue eyes of hers locking to his as she tugged the shower-curtain closed.

 _How could he become so aroused so fast?_ his stunned wondering danced and dissipated in the steam.

Speechless, breathless, he watched as she took the bar of soap in her hands, held it under the water flowing down between them, rubbed it, lathered it up. Under her hands, the soap bar felt hard and cool as she rode it over his flesh, sliding and slipping deliciously over the bulges of his chest.

Her eyes stayed down, focused on his body glistening and yielding to the soap bar as she said, "Life… like your gorgeous body, husband… has its ups and downs. And you are wise…" Julia paused and stepped closer. Such a luscious spinning took him as her breasts pushed in against him… then her kiss, first her lips on his jaw, moving, kissing again closer to his mouth, kissing again closer… then lips over lips, pushing in, bending his lips this way and that. Boundaries blurred. _Silk_ – her tongue, _absolute silk_ …

She pulled back, went back to work with the soap. Clearing her throat first, her sultry voice continued, "Wise enough to know you can't enjoy the ups without the downs, hmm?" she said, the soap, her sudsy fingers, now gliding over the biggest "up" on his whole body, down low, throbbing, aching with want. Irresistible the delight, a stupendous moan escaped William's throat.

The lust, the humungous raging desire for her grabbed him hard. With everything he had he fought it. "Julia," his lovely voice whispered, begged.

"Hmm?" her voice hummed in his ear, asking but already knowing.

 _Words gone. Thoughts gone. So dizzy_. She turned him to the water, rinsed away the soap, her hands cloaking him, stroking him with a suggestive rhythm. The devastating kiss started with their faces under the flowing waterfall, then Julia leaned back, pulled him with her as she stepped back against the hard, cold tiles of the shower wall. The deluge thundered and showered behind them and William pushed in closer, grew heavy on top of her as he pinned her into the wall, squeezing her breath, swirling her world with his fierce, out-of-control primal need. He would take her – take her hard – take her now. His knee lifted, shoved, insisted between her thighs, opening her to him.

The ecstasy plunged her to the edge as he breeched her and pushed into her creamy, tight softness, driving forward rough, hard, deep…

Her intake of air whooshed by him as her gasp passed his ear. He drove in deeper, deeper, more, much more, closer…

And closer he powered and forced into her, pounding upward again, and then again, and then again. She could not withstand it, not survive it, such a devastating plummet – just there, lingering, haunting, surging towards her, unbearable, the height of this fall, filling her with both terror and bliss. She held on to him with all her might, as if her very life depended on it, she held him. "Please William!" she called, "My God, please," she pleaded as he grunted and roared into her over and over.

And then the whirlwind quieted, such a hushed gulp, a feather-light puff. There would be no denying it, only waiting, for it was coming.

Nearly inaudible, her gasp announced it, only delectably detectable because he specifically listened for it, electrifying him, sending him forward with abandon, for it promised her guarantee. Inevitable now, he had to hurry to catch the upsurge at its ultimate.

It would be huge, the enormity of the wave lifting, stealing her breath right out of her lungs it rose, so high, so very, very high… And then the rush, gushing and careening so hot and sweet and delicious, cascading through her middle, rippling outward, flooding outward, drowning everywhere, into her face, into her toes, into her ears. The moan, her glorious moan, barreled through him.

 _My God, she was delicious. This delicious, delicious woman, surrounding him, submerging him, filling him, bathing him, deluging every cell, every atom with her succulent, lush, moist, heat… utter perfection._ William raced with everything he had to touch her, finally touch her. She was his. He had her, right there. _My God, this woman felt good, so astoundingly good_ , the eruption came. He stretched for the last sticky morsel, then he moaned and he stilled, and he sank and he dropped with exhaustion.

His heart pounded with such fury from his exertion that the resultant dizziness weakened his knees, wobbling William on his axis as the stillness, the completeness, slowly captured him. He would never let her go – never. His teeth took her neck. He sucked in her smell, her taste, her humid warmth in his mouth. _He loved her. My God he loved her_. His teeth released her flesh. "Julia," he scratched out.

She could not answer. Not yet. " _My goodness,_ _that was good_ ," the words were there, spinning in her head… somewhere. " _My God_ ," she thought, the aftershocks still rippling inside of her. She struggled to find a semblance of steadiness, for she knew they were out there, the up and the down of the world, the wall behind her, the floor beneath. His kisses, grateful, cherishing, fluttered along her face. She heard him swallow, then a little nibble, more kisses. Their breathing calmed together, their grips lightened. Their feet touched the shower floor, solid and still, allowing them to return to the water, with a kiss mingling now and again. Then, muscles weak, the plush towels soaked away the water. Naked, content, they went to bed early that night.

) (

William awakened to the scrumptious sound of rustling September leaves out the window in the breeze. Dawn, golden and warm, seeped into their bedroom. Julia's breathing, deep, safe, swayed next to him. It was Saturday, early. The baby would likely sleep another half hour or so, probably more.

 _In the shower, her wedged against the wall underneath him, the warm water flooding down_ , _rhythmically he had thrust into her,_ the memory of their making love flickered in his mind. An exhale, warmed by the pleasure inside of him, billowed out. _Oh yes, this feeling always reminded him… he needed to thank God_.

A contented sigh, " _What shall we do today_?" he started planning. " _Perhaps a picnic in the park…"_

Julia twitched. Again, then, ever so slightly, she moaned.

William rolled onto his side and basked in the studying of his beautiful wife as she dreamed. He knew it was likely she dreamed of him – of making passionate love with him. Another twitch, this one surging an arch in her back with its wave. " _Definitely_ ," he thought. Instantly his groin reacted, reached for her under the covers, mushing and spinning his head into a soupy bliss. He slid closer, lightly felt the sensation of her skin floating against his skin. His whisper in her ear, calling her name, asking her permission. His weight grew heavier. "I want you," he whispered, even closer, his lips grazing along her ear before he kissed and held her with his teeth and sucked in her flesh. "Julia," he lured.

She would never really know, he would never really know, if she was awake or still asleep when she answered, "William," her voice so raspy, so feeble.

" _Yes,_ " his brain told him, and he pushed into her, ruptured her ever so softly, slowly, firmly up into her, her responsive moan killing him. _How could he possibly love her this much?_

"Julia, I love you. My God I love you," he promised as he pushed in deeper, and that intoxicating rhythm took over, and he made love to her, strong and rugged, while tinted with romantic tenderness, pushing into her over and over again.

Afterwards the rosy shadows lifted around them as they recovered from their lovemaking, tangled and clumped together. He rolled over on his back, Julia resting her head on her husband's hunky chest, stroking and appreciating his muscly contours, tending to his occasional scars as they nestled in the glow.

"I was thinking a picnic," he eventually broke the silence.

He felt her curls tickle as she moved, nodded. "That sounds lovely," she replied. Her hand slipped down to massage and admire his stomach. "We have always enjoyed a picnic," she added, thinking of that first time, and knowing he would be too, when they picnicked in the sunset in the park with the surprise and enchantment of absinthe and they had almost given in to the persuasion of the 'green fairies.'

Proving her thoughts right, he responded, "You know, that was not meant to be our _first_ picnic…"

"Oh?" she questioned, secretly proud of herself for knowing where her husband's thoughts would go.

"No… Um, I had uh…" his hesitation caught her attention.

"William?" she lifted onto her elbow to look him in the eye. "Are you saying that you had planned to have your way with me at _another_ picnic – a picnic _before_ that one?" she demanded with an eyebrow raised high. She felt her body growing giddy with her husband's squirm.

He nodded yes, but denied it, sort of. "I wouldn't say that exactly," he teetered. "Well…"

William's expression thrilled her to the bone. He appeared to be both on the verge of blushing and filled with cockiness. _My God, she loved this man._

"What?" she insisted.

 _How was he going to explain this_ , he wondered? At the time, and it was a long time ago, he had been dreaming, and lusting, and fantasizing about 'having his way' with Julia constantly. And yet, he was certain he would never have actually gone through with it… back then. He was still mourning Liza… and Julia was a colleague, and she was a lady of high breeding, upper-class, not available, not interested in, him, he was sure, at least… not like _that_. But, he had planned a picnic – and he had imagined making love to her on that same red picnic blanket… multiple times he had imagined it…

" _The journal!_ " his thought trumpeted the solution inside his head.

"Julia," his voice announced his idea, "How would you like to hear from my journal, um, about the first… well, _almost_ the first, picnic?" he asked.

"I'd be delighted," she smiled as she rolled off of him to let him go get his little brown book from his dresser drawer.

The couple curled together when he returned, Julia's head cozied on his chest, the journal held in her view while he read from it.

 _ **I do wonder if it was not a sign from God, the stopping of our picnic with a case – the murder occurring right before our very eyes. What are the odds of that really? Perhaps my reluctance is warranted. I should slow down, take heed from it. God knows, I've had my doubts about a romantic interest in her being warranted, viable. It took every ounce of courage I had to even invite her to the AC electricity demonstration in the first place.**_

 _ **Now, pen in hand, I feel the shame of it, of my lustful thoughts of being with Julia – smelling her, tasting her, kissing her, having her in my arms – invading my dreams, wretched, stunning fantasies rendering me dumbfoundedly awkward in her presence. I feel I would suffer a mortal death if she ever knew of such thoughts… such as those I had cycling to the park this morning. My body actually bucked me out of it, as it thrust against the bicycle seat with the reality of my primal, wild imaginings. My mind spins even now with the memory of it. Her atop the plush red picnic blanket, tucked underneath me, golden curls whisping about, those gorgeous blue eyes of hers sparkling at me, hungry with want, urging me on. So delicious around me, sucking me in deeper, calling – intimately close to my ear with her hot breath mingling with the sound – calling my name.**_

 _ **Even worse, those dreams. This morning again – I'll have to go to Confession – such heavenly completion in my pajamas, needing to be cleaned again. We were on the slab in the morgue, under her, the white porcelain cold and hard, me above her, inside of her, her luscious body jiggling and yielding to me with each thrust.**_

 _ **Seriously William, what is wrong with you? Even when engaged to Liza such vivid, erotic thoughts were not a problem. Julia Ogden is just a woman. And a woman outside of your class. It would insult her…**_

 _ **And yet it occurs to me, she truly seemed enchanted, charmed, happy about my invitation.**_ **And the way she laid her bicycle into mine against the wall** _ **. I couldn't help but wish that so too it would be with our bodies on the picnic blanket. And how my heart skipped seeing her rebellious unruliness – wearing those trousers, baggy and draping yes, they could appear to be a skirt if your glance was quick. Yet there she was, wearing trousers for all the world to see.**_

 _ **Stop. Stop it. Nothing good can come of it. Dr. Ogden is a good friend to you. Nothing more. No more picnics. Remember, life is not a picnic, just like Harry always said. Let it go. Confess and move on. Detective and pathologist, that is all. Done.**_

Having reached the end of the writing, William's voice stopped and quiet enveloped them momentarily. Julia reached up and closed his journal, playfully tossing it aside.

"Not done," she whispered enticingly. Seductively, entrancingly, she wiggled her naked body over his. Magnificent, deep and warm, her mouth, sharp, her teeth, moving down, biting, sucking, nipping, kissing his flesh. Jaw, neck, pectoral muscle, stomach, her unbearable caresses moved towards their goal.

Explosions to his groin, instantaneous, powerful, he felt the building of his desires. "Julia," he worried and still wanted. "We won't have time," he warned thinking of the baby and the imminent cry that would be coming.

She rose off of him, reached and stretched a long, gorgeous leg over him, kneeled straddling above him. "Let's be like the bicycles William," she said, taking him in her hand. _Oh, he felt so wonderful_ – hard, swollen with want. She stroked, making it impossible for him to resist, forcing a moan from him, curling a smile on her lips.

Then the smothering, the rupturing, she took him in, so slippery, and luscious, and warm, her taught succumbing squeezed around him. She gasped with the pleasure of it before her tone deepened and she let go a ravenous, weak moan.

Her motion, the sight of her breasts, malleable and bouncy, pendulous above him with each pump up into her, and with it he was helpless. He surrendered to it… thrust up into her fiercely. She folded with the wave, dropped down onto his chest, into his strong arms, moaned and begged into his ear. They flipped, spinning and swirling with the sudden tilt, the pound of the mattress below her. And then it swept them both to the hilt, the rhythm, the power of the lovemaking, hurried, rushed, hurling them to the edges of tolerance.

William, please!" she screamed out, unable to withstand her twisted, knotted inner torture. "Please! Oh my God, William…"

And then she sensed its hint, the glory of it plummeting her, first up so high that she had to reassure herself that it would come – the pause before the fall. Dizzy, she reached the summit, air stolen from her chest with the knowledge that the ripples of ecstasy were assured. She fell, with a magnificent floating and soaring and she felt him, this perfect man, chase and rush after her, so strong his thrusts, to her his sound the one ultimate matching note – his raspy moan, desperate and relieved in her ear. William," she touched him, he touched her, finally completely together.

She swallowed and softly uttered a contented moan underneath him. "That was good," she told him as he melted and dropped heavy into her whole body, spent, his thundering heart thumping wildly against her chest, and they shared their winded heaving and slowing spin. He chuckled in her ear, pure delight in her heart with the sound and the feel of it.

He had to swallow to speak, his voice dry from his physical efforts, he said, "Definitely not done."

"Thank God," she giggled, "We were, and we are, far from done." Her thoughts reminded of the baby, prompting her to add, "And there is a beautiful little baby in the other room to prove it, yes?"

"Yes," he quickly agreed. His body tightening in response to the reminder. Their son would wake any minute. They needed to get up.

As they put on their robes, grateful for their Saturday privacy, Julia told him that she, too, had written about their bicycles leaning together against the wall at that same science demonstration. She wondered aloud if other people would have even noticed such an intricate little detail, read so much into the potential symbolism of their metallic entanglement. She disclosed her joy in knowing he had lusted so intensely after her so early on in their knowing each other. She teased him, and then reassured him, that she had done the same. They reveled in the current reminder that they were each the compliment of the other. That he had been right when he concluded, upon their first encounter, that she was the one for him. And once again, they were happy, deeply, deeply happy.

They would go on a picnic in the park today. Over breakfast, William explained that the place he had taken her – the first time with the absinthe – was the same place he had intended to take her the day of the science demonstration as well. They planned to go to that same spot this September afternoon, to take their miraculous child with them, to share with him the joy of lying on a red, fluffy picnic blanket in the sunlight and the breeze.

) (

Between his parents on the picnic blanket at the top of the hill in the park, William Jr. giggled and squealed with his father's playful antics, the toy rabbit bounding up and down, occasionally puffing and huffing into the boy's tiny belly. Their two bicycles were perched against a park bench together in the background, with William's baby carrier invention draped over them. He had improvised, using something similar to the backsack he had made when going undercover as a hobo, making a sling-like gadget with shoulder straps that could hold the baby to his body. It enabled the use of both of his hands while holding the baby, making cycling much easier.

Julia sat back, admiring the way her husband played with their son, watching. "William," she interrupted with a thought.

"Mm," he replied, eyes and attention staying with the play.

"Did you make peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches that day too…" she asked, "when we almost had our first picnic?" She leaned back onto her two elbows and crossed her ankles. Her own blue eyes lingered at the view of her dark stockings poking out from under each of the bottoms of her rather fashionable bicycle-riding trousers.

As he lifted his chin, relinquishing the stuffed bunny toy to William Jr.'s grasp, William waited for her to meet his eyes, granting a handsome smile when she did so. "No," he answered her, "There was roast beef, Mrs. Kitchen's, and cheese and bread…" He lifted the baby into his lap and slid closer to his wife. He gathered up one of her curls, twisting and fondling it as he added, with a bashfulness that inflamed her heart, "I had brought along a bottle of red wine…"

A sly, deliciously cocky smile slipped onto his face. She knew he would tease somehow. Julia sat up, binging her face close to his, harboring a kiss.

"Perhaps your earlier suggestion…" he started to explain.

"Yes," she asked, kissing his cheek, cupping his other cheek within her tender fingers. She let her fingers wander, tracing his ear, tucking into his hair.

Her flirtations were successful, William needed, now, to clear his throat and work against gravity to hold onto his thought. "Ahem," he began again, noticing the baby between them, "Perhaps you were right to…" He kissed her ear, fluttered his warm breath over her skin and went on, "Maybe I did, um, subconsciously, intend to have my way with you after all."

"Like with the absinthe," she teased.

"Perhaps," he acquiesced, on both counts of attempted use of alcoholically-induced seduction.

Putting a temporary end to his parents' romantic dalliance, William Jr. gave out an excited squeal and bumped up and down in his father's lap. Julia reached to take him into her arms.

"Would you like to go exploring, little one?" she asked, as much of William as of the baby.

A picture sprung into William's mind, of having William Jr. strapped to his back in the backsack baby carrier, and taking Julia into the cluster of trees across the path, and showing her his most secret place. He would breach the subject.

"My little man," he said, "Did you know that you have tree-climbing in your blood?"

Her interest piqued, Julia exclaimed, "William!" as immediately she felt the flinging apart of the conflicting thoughts in her mind. "He's just a baby," she heard herself complain, or possibly warn. But truth be told, the adventurer in her had also seen the image flicker in her head, the excitement and wonder of climbing with the little baby up into the trees captured her fancy, a least a bit, too.

Playing it cool, appearing to ignore her concerns, William continued talking to his son. "Why your Daddy was a lumberjack. And your Mommy has told me that as a child she climbed up into trees all the time, and she loved it. Why even today, your Mommy has boldly worn a perfect tree-climbing outfit to the park…"

The glow, the warmth of the eruption of love and joy she felt in her heart stole her breath rendering her expression exquisite when their eyes met. His face wore its customary wrinkle at a corner of his mouth, admitting and apologizing, but enhanced by the raising of an eyebrow, requesting, hoping. And so quickly it flooded away into a smile, for he could tell she would agree.

Julia rushed to backpedal. "William, it's too dangerous," she demanded.

"I'll put him in the backsack," he offered, already standing. He bent down, asking for her to hand him William Jr., which she willingly did.

He could get scraped or scratched, or you might accidently bump his head against a branch you don't see behind you… Or he could fa…"

William's hand had taken hers. She hadn't been aware she had held it out to him until she felt the lift and she found herself standing. "I'll be careful. I promise," he said. His twinkling brown eyes dangled an irresistible _joie de vi_ e in front of her.

"Besides," he changed the subject, getting away with having convinced her to overcome her fears, "I want to show you a view of Toronto that no one else has ever seen…" The three of them headed to the bicycles where the baby carrier waited. As she helped him get the baby strapped on he continued, "And I would like you to see the spot from which I looked down on you and Darcy that Christmas Eve when my heart broke even more in knowing you, too, suffered without me, with the same memory of our first kiss drawing you to this place…"

She remembered him telling her that heart wrenching story, from another time they had shared their journals. She glanced back at the picnic blanket now spread out in their special place, and she felt it again, the memory of the pain of accepting her life without him, and her guilt of betraying Darcy by having married him when she knew for certain that she should not have done so.

William's gentle tug brought her back. They stepped into the shade and the cool of the tree-line of the clustered woods at the top of the hill. Within only fifty-feet one could be tricked into thinking they had become secluded in a forest. There was a quietness, and the fresh smell had a way of soothing the soul. Naturally their voices had dropped to intimate whispers. William went directly to a particular tree. It was big – a sycamore tree, its large leaves a bright yellow, inviting and reminding her of the roses at their wedding. She did not know how, but it felt like home to her. It would be easy to climb, the limbs large, spaced nicely, relatively free of intrusive twigs to get snarled on as one climbed.

"It's perfect," she whispered.

Their eyes locked, and he just had to kiss her, he loved her so. Amazingly quiet behind his father, as if the baby too felt the intimacy of the woods, William Jr. tapped his daddy's shoulder with a tiny gurgle. The kiss broke off softly.

William took a deep breath, enjoying the contentment and the excitement of the moment. "You go first," he suggested, guiding her closer to the tree trunk. His lips close to her ear he said, "Climb high, within three or four branches from the top. There's something specific there I want you to see."

Admittedly her heart thumped with his words, anticipation built. Confidently the couple made their way up into the tree. When Julia had gotten close to the height she figured William had intended her to reach, she heard below her the happy scream of her son. _He was having fun_! In that moment, she recognized that she was too. She reached up, grasped what she believed would be her last branch, and climbed up onto it. She was able to stand there comfortably. Julia glanced down to see her dark-haired husband, " _homburgless,_ " she noted the rareness of the sight, especially from this unique perspective, and right behind him that bundle of dark-haired curls, their amazing son. The sheer happiness she felt threatened to make her dizzy. The smile on her face was so large it ached.

"This is thrilling, William," she yelled a gleeful whisper down to him.

"That it is," she heard his reply, his voice betraying a momentary grunt of effort with his climbing. Inhaling a deep refreshing breath of the clear air up at this altitude, Julia turned her attention to William's promise of having "something specific" up here for her to see. She looked out to the view. _It was spectacular! Magnificent! You could see everything! Like a bird_. And her mind replayed it, William jumping to join her in the hot air balloon, renewing their love affair, rekindling her heart. She felt him behind her, so silently he had arrived.

"The view is something, isn't it?" his voice asked in her ear. The perfect tree had a matching branch extending from its trunk right there for him next to hers.

"It's beautiful, William," she answered him. "How's the baby?" she asked, her motherliness invading her lighthearted mood.

"He's quite happy," William replied. The little boy's father was considering taking the nine-month-old out of the baby carrier so they could better interact with him, but his protectiveness advised against it. " _Julia would be terrified by the idea_ ," his inner voice added, supplying the deciding vote. _The baby stayed in the carrier, it's safer that way_.

William turned to see if _the evidence_ was still there, knowing that it would be.

Seeing her husband's eyes drift inward to the trunk of the tree rather than staying out on the astounding view, Julia followed his gaze. _Amazing, unbelievable, right there, carved into this perfect tree, was William's arborglyph, his decade-long secret hope…_

 **J. O.**

 **and**

 **W. M.**

"William!" she gasped. "When did you do this?" she asked, but she could tell it had been there a long time. _He had loved her for such a long time_.

"I made it right after the science demonstration, after I had once again failed in my endeavor to stop loving you…" He took a deep breath and then he said, "It seemed no matter of Confessions, or self-flagellation, could quell it Julia. I figured that it if I admitted it to the Universe, well, then maybe it would let me go on."

And then he wrinkled a corner of his mouth, and her world flipped-over again with her astonishing love for this man. Somehow, the magic of the kiss that followed was magnified by their height in this perfect tree, remarkable, spectacular love enveloped them within its golden leaves.

A little while later, a happy shriek from William Jr. filled the air in the tiny cluster of woods after the Murdoch's had landed back on the ground under the tree and he had been tossed lightly into the air by his Daddy and then settled into the loving arms of his Mommy in the park where his parents had _almost_ had a picnic so many, many years before…

And the Universe harmonized with the baby boy's glee, gusting forth a wistful breeze, for there was celebration in the truth that **J. O. + W. M.** would be in love forever, and then after that, even a little bit more.


	25. Learning from the Lecture

Journal Journeys_Learning from the Lecture

The moment he stepped over the threshold of their home, William felt the burden on his shoulders lighten. It had been a fairly awful day, and arriving home now, after such a day, sweaty from cycling home on an unseasonably hot October evening, with the smells of Eloise's cooking, and with the knowledge that within the confines of these self-designed walls there waited for him his beautiful wife and their wonderful baby boy, he felt his soul's recovery begin. Hanging his homburg on its peg and draping the burdensome, unneeded jacket over the staircase railing, he headed down into the basement, lured by the squeaky springs and the playful babbling sounds of William Jr.'s bouncing in the invention he had made for him.

Books opened, papers splayed out in front of her all over the labtable, Julia worked with the door opened and William Jr. playing nearby. Grateful to have been able to leave the morgue early, she had had time to shower off the incredible stink of the day and even begin to outline a syllabus for her new class at the Women's college – provided William accepted the idea. She had started with determining time of death, always so important to working a case. Next she figured would be means of death and then identifying the body…

William's voice drew her attention from the stairs. "Well now, how's my little man doing?" he spoke to William Jr.

His footsteps finished down the last few steps as Julia noticed how big the smile grew on her own lips and her heart opened and warmed with the mere sound, the mere presence of this man. She would feign being deeply intrigued by her work. She spoke to him from her labroom as he kneeled and greeted their son in the next room.

"Welcome home, Mr. Murdoch," she said. Immediately she remembered his latest case, and the newspapers taunting him over his failings in solving it. She imagined the Inspector's irritated yelling in her ear…

Unaware of it, William sighed. "It's good to be home, Mrs. Murdoch," he answered her.

A few moments later, after loving his baby for a time, William stood leaning against the doorframe admiring his wife from afar. She had already glanced his way, so he knew he was not doing so in secret, still he let his eyes tour her figure. She had showered, her hair still damp and pulled back into a braid. Naked under her robe, _absolutely gorgeous_ , her soft flesh peaked out revealing a breathtaking tease of cleavage at the juncture of the fabric a few inches above the robe's sash. He imagined the feel of the sash in his fingers as he pulled it open, then the warmth and suppleness of her womanly body as he pushed in against her.

The noticing interrupted his fantasy, " _What's she working on?"_ he wondered. "Julia," he asked drawing her eyes out of her books and up to his…

The wrinkle at the corner of her mouth shot emotions and thoughts through him, the gesture a contagion from her familiarity with him, the meaning of it telling she had something to admit to… and a request to make of him as well.

"Yes, you must be curious," she said.

He pushed away from the wall and approached, his eyes rushing to take in the evidence, his quick mind considering all the myriad of possibilities. The books ran the gamut of topics, but all seemed to be about forensics. The title she had written at the top of the paper read, "Syllabus." William tilted his head to the side as he heard the beginnings of a conclusion in his head, " _A course…"_

Julia's voice next to him began to explain, "Well, it seems that after you – and I must say, Miss James – had Professor Hempel arrested for murdering Miss Sarah Franklin, the Ontario Medical College for Women was absent a professor. And there were students needing to attend lectures, and conduct labs, and receive grades…"

For just a moment, Julia noticed again how truly beautiful her husband's eyes were as she gazed into them before she went on. "Dr. Stowe-Gullen asked me to teach a course in forensic medicine…" Julia said, pausing as she saw pride and excitement growing on William's face and the fact that he felt those things so thrilled her it stole her breath. She went on, "She promised me that I could employ my own research methods, even if they are considered unorthodox, and I…" _Here, Julia stammered, for she knew in her heart she had made a mistake accepting Augusta's proposal without talking to William first. But his reaction was reassuring, for she had expected he would be accepting, even happy about her taking the position. Yet, she felt the need to explain, and to minimize the cost her taking on more work would bring._

She reached up and cupped William's cheek. Her tone offered him a vow. "William," she started, "I know that I… we," her smile lit him up, provoked his in return, "We have much on our plates, with a new baby and me returning to the morgue." A deep exhale flowed out of her nostrils as she tried to lower the building pressure and continued, "I would only need to lecture two late afternoons a week… And work in a time for the students to do labs, possibly at the morgue. And I was thinking, maybe we could use that property over by the Don River, um, I know we still have it and it could be useful as a… well as a body-farm, if you will."

"Brilliant idea," he exclaimed, understanding right away what she intended, the site providing various soil moisture contents that would impact decomposition rates of bodies and allow for research into what happens to a body once it is buried in all sorts of conditions and depths.

"So, you're alright with my taking the position?" she asked excitedly. Her heart beamed.

He turned her to him, took a hold of her hips. "You milady, will be quite good at it, I'm sure. And we do very much need well-trained pathologists, and I know of no one better than you, Dr. Ogden," he declared with a big smile.

Julia's arms slid up around her husband's neck and the mood became flirtatious. "You, William Murdoch, never cease to amaze me. You are truly a modern man," she said. Her fingers glanced his ear, tangled into his hair. "I'm quite sure no other man has to contend with such outrageous requests from their wife. You must think I'm quite something," she suggested.

William's warm breath spilled over her ear as he leaned closer to her and replied, "No, Julia, not something – everything. You are everything to me." His fingers grasped hold of the sash around her robe, tugged at it. She moaned as his coarse hands slipped in along her flesh and his moldable, soft lips covered hers in a delicious kiss. Rocketing levels of sexual desires between them, the kiss deepened. Firmly he pulled her tight, pressed her backside against the lab-table. _Enticing, so dizzying and enticing_ , the contrast of his sculptured, hard chest muscles against her supple, creamy breasts. They both felt it, his rising need to be closer to her, as his groin bulged into the top of her thigh.

The kiss broke off. Julia's lips traveled down his jaw, reveling in his daylong stubble, then a nip at his neck, the salty taste of his sweat flooded her tongue. He was wet with sweat and she pulled back. "You need a shower, husband," she said.

"Mm," he answered, working to gain control of his lust for this lush, mushy, delicious woman. " _Step back, William_ ," he heard his own voice coach in his head, " _Step back."_ Floundering in his efforts, he nuzzled her neck, kissed, sucked on her. His strong hands gloried in the curve of her waist as they rode upwards underneath the fabric of her robe. _Oh, how he wanted to feel her jiggly breasts bulge through his fingers._

"William," her more stern voice warned. She was battling her urges herself, feeling her womb twisting tight into a knot, like a sponge wanting to lap every drop of this man up, the slippery liquid oozing out of her filling her opening for him. She made herself do it, push at him, find his shoulders and push him back.

He yielded to her request, let go of her tasty flesh in his mouth, pulled his hands out of her robe, stepped back. His eyes stayed down, hiding his disappointment. _She was right, of course she was right…_

Julia found she needed to clear her throat to keep up the pretense of control. "There is still time for you to get cleaned up… before dinner, detective," she advised. She so loved his polite bow.

"Yes," he nodded and lifted his brown eyes to hers. With only that, he left.

) (

The couple stood together next to the sleeping baby's crib, only illuminated by the light through the opened door from the hallway. Rarely did they both tuck him in, stay with him while he drifted off, but they had done so tonight. Sensing that it was safe now to risk a whisper, William said, feeling Julia's eyes turn to him as he kept his down on the bundle in the crib, "Thanks for making me a baby, Mrs. Murdoch. I really like him." His sly smile barely visible in the dim light and a quick sideways glance with his big, dark eyes and her heart tumbled over.

Her fingers reached up to his chin and turned him to face her. Her whisper was intensely intimate as she teased, "I thought you might," in reply. She gave him a soft peck on the cheek, offering a promise of more.

William pulled the door close to its frame, leaving it opened a crack, and then captured his wife against the hallway wall. He grasped a curl that dangled free of her braid, then kissed her cheek, then her lips, then took more, kissing deeper, then deeper still. With his wife having wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, he turned and carried her into their bedroom. Like a warm, gentle rain that had been promised all day and finally came, he made love to her.

Afterwards, bathed in content, satisfied, relaxed, they lie together in their marital bed, Julia resting her head on her husband's shoulder. The world had stopped its luscious spinning and their minds settled down to once again consider the realities of their complicated lives. _They had so little time together, and admittedly_ , William thought, _they certainly used it well. But still, now with Julia teaching at the college, there would be even less time for them to be together._

William broke the silence, asking, "So, Professor Ogden, when do you give your first lecture?"

"Next week," the answer came quickly, "Monday at four o'clock." Realizing that the carving into their time of this new adventure of hers was seeming to become much more obvious with the reality of scheduling now on the table, Julia felt worry fill her gut. She shifted with the discomfort, lifted up onto an elbow to look into William's face. "The class is on Mondays and Wednesdays from four till seven," she elaborated, with the endearing wrinkle at the corner of her mouth.

William noted the impact of being on the other side of that gesture, realizing it had a way of rendering the receiver weakened. "Julia, you seem concerned that I will be resentful of the time your teaching will take form us. I assure you, I am not," he offered as he rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow to match her gaze. Lovingly he took a hold of one of her curls and continued, "I find it exciting…"

Julia smiled, noting a delightful glint in his eye. "It is, isn't it," she agreed with a gleeful squeeze. She added, "I do hope, detective, that you would offer your expertise to the endeavor. Perhaps even be a guest lecturer?"

"That sounds lovely," he answered her, "I'd be honored… if you think it fitting, and you think I'm up to the challenge."

Her hands marveled in the ups and downs of his muscles, touring his deltoids and pectorals. "William Murdoch, I have always thought you would have made a wonderful teacher. I mean just think of George. Your relationship with him is very much like that of a teacher and a student," she encouraged.

Doubtful such a one-on-one relationship was the same thing as teaching a class, he wrinkled his face at her and complained, "True, but…"

 _It hit her in flash – the memory of William so eloquently lecturing down in front of a huge hall of physics students at the University of Toronto, while working on the first case he ever had with the dreadful James Gillies._

"Oh William," she sat up excited, "And you really shined when you lectured a class. I saw it myself. Remember?" she asked insistently.

He did. It came to him as well, the memory of using a lecture on the hangman's calculations to trick Robert Perry into confessing, and naming James Gillies as well, in the murder of a professor at the college. She saw the recognition in his eyes. She rushed to take advantage of it. "It was very impressive William," she gleamed.

"Professor Godfrey gave me an A-minus," he giggled with the memory, risking being boastful.

"Really?!" Julia sat upright and gave him a playful shove, acknowledging his cockiness and egging him on even more, "I would have thought a solid A myself."

Memories of the time poured in around them both. The smell of the old, stuffy wood in the lecture hall. The surprised and judgmental looks the **female** doctor received when she entered the exclusively male university to observe from up above. William writing on the big blackboard in the front of it all. But they both felt the sinking of their hearts too, for it had been a devastating time for them as a couple, and the pain was still there with the memory.

William joined her in sitting up and bent a knee. "As did I," he agreed, but then went on to explain, his voice dwindling off as the deeper meaning of the words in the context of this particular time in their lives settled in, "but of course, nothing is perfect."

Julia recognized the opportunity as she reacted with wonder to his unspoken connections. "William," her voice queried, piquing his curiosity, "Did you write of this time, when you gave this lecture, in your journal?" Not giving him time to answer she bounced, "I did." She was out of bed so fast retrieving her journal from her dresser he barely thought when he said…

"Get mine too," and he leaned over to turn on the lamp on her side of the bed as well.

 _ **I learned one thing from his lecture, as I sat in the rafters and admired him from afar, William Murdoch had my heart. It was him and only him for me – ever. And it was not going to be, not ever, and I had to accept that. From there, as his brilliance, and his power, and his twinkling radiance stole my breath away, it was more clear for me than it had ever been before. I completely love this man, with the depth of my soul, I love him. And I know there will never be another man in the world who makes me feel this way. I listened, and I watched, and somehow I managed to follow the genius of his argument – his interrogation really… and at the same time I watched every inkling of joy in my life die…**_

 _ **I smothered it. Watched as it glimmered and struggled gasping for air, here and there an eruption of the glorious potential of it as my heart reacted to some gesture, some wise words from him down below. Somehow I managed not to cry, knowing that the tears would come when I was alone, and that they would put out the very last embers of the fire of my love for him, leaving only a noxious black smoke behind in its wake. Before him I knew I would live my life alone. After him I see that I have lost nothing in the end, alone as always, nothing new. But… the sense of loss is so astounding. I was better off, much better off, before, before not knowing what it could feel like to have… my God what would I call him to me? A soulmate, if I'm honest. It does hurt terribly, to have lost so much. And even though I'm back where I started, and that should be good enough, I'm not sure I can bear it. I want only to hide when I see myself in his eyes, when I see that the man I love more than I ever thought was possible sees me as a selfish, abhorrent… as a murderer really. A woman who would kill her own child for her own selfish ambitions. My God this hurts. And I'll admit, it's hard not to see myself as he sees me now, and that hurts even more. I'll need distance. Maybe I'll need to leave the morgue – but that seems so unfair! I have every right to stay. I am a good pathologist.**_

 _ **Distance. Put up the walls Julia. Don't let him in. Silly girl, he doesn't want in anyway, remember. He dropped you like a hot potato once he saw the real you – and don't you forget it. Protect yourself. Don't care what he thinks. Be professional, nothing more. Keep your distance. He's just a detective, nothing more. Nothing more than a Dermott or a Slorach. Just a detective, that's all.**_

William raised an eyebrow at her, "Ouch," he said. He took her journal from her and put it aside. Swinging a leg over her, William straddled her lap, consciously holding up much of his weight on his knees so as not to hurt her as he pushed against her, pinning her back into the headboard. He kissed her cheek, then leaned back and caught her beautiful blue eyes. "Julia," his tone sincere he insisted, "I never thought of you the way you imagined."

Julia's eyes bolted away from his and he knew she didn't believe him. Panic flew through him. "Julia Ogden, you listen to me," he asserted, leaning over to try to draw her eyes. She tried, lifted her eyes briefly, but then they darted away again. "Julia," he fought the urge to plead with her, sensing it would only stir the emotions more. " _Calmly William_ ," he coached himself. "Julia, I admit I could not see myself marrying a woman who had had an abortion," William shook his head with the unacceptableness of it, "One who had committed what the Church so clearly sees as a sin." He took a deep breath, knowing this would be difficult and he would need the air, she would need a moment. "But," he leaned over again, "but I struggled so because I was at that point, um already…"

William tenderly touched her chin. " _Please Julia, look at me,"_ he thought, unwilling to force her, connecting but unwilling to lift her face to meet his. Instead he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I wanted to marry you Julia. I had been battling with the problems of that for quite some time… uh, before I learned of your abortion. You already know. We have talked of it often, how my low station caused me pause, hmm?" he asked, hoping his question would pull her up to him.

She braved it, her big blue eyes meeting his, being rewarded with his warm smile. Wisdom had taught him about honesty, and he pushed on… after a swallow. He reached up and rubbed his forehead – his tell, so she knew he, too, was feeling stressed by the topic of his reaction to her abortion. "And although I thought… And we both know I was wrong, but I thought, I would not be able to marry you," he added with a raised eyebrow, highlighting the irony. "And even if I wasn't going to marry you, I knew I loved you," he went on, "And I still thought you were the best, kindest, brightest, most non-judgmental, loving person I had ever met, and probably ever would. I was certain that you had done what you did with a heavy heart, despite the fact that you had admitted you did not ultimately regret the decision you had made. As a matter of fact, in the end that solidified my certainty, for I knew you well enough to know that such a decision would only have been taken with the utmost seriousness on your part, and if – after having done it, you still felt it was the right decision for you in the circumstances, then I trusted that it was, despite what the gospel teaches. I learned from this whole thing too Julia. I learned how much I trusted you, trusted in you," William concluded his argument realizing he had cupped her face firmly in both of his hands and had given in to the emotional whirlwind of pleading.

Letting go of her face, he asked, after a sigh, hope in his heart, "Do you believe me?"

Thankfully, she did, but still, she wanted him to read about his experiences at the time of his lecture.

 _ **No perfect circle – at first I missed the lesson in the lecture. Oh, I felt so high. My plan worked beautifully. I was completely in control, executing each and every step perfectly… Got the confession. Solved the case of the perfect murder. I was on top of the world. And I never knew it more starkly, I WAS THERE ALL ALONE. And it was because I had held too fast, too rigidly, to my ideal of this perfect woman, to this belief that I had that Julia Ogden was the perfect woman for me. Professor Godfrey said he would have given my lecture an A-minus. Pressed on the 'minus,' the man argued that it was me who had actually just proven that NOTHING was perfect. And the moment the words left his mouth, hit my ear, before their meaning registered in my brain, my heart felt it, knew it, sank with the realization of it… I had made a huge mistake with Julia. I had been disappointed because I found out that she wasn't perfect. I had lost her for such a stupid reason, holding out for something that didn't exist – that could not exist, I lost the one for me because I expected the impossible, I expected perfection.**_

 _ **The way my heart skipped a beat when she walked in, and I saw all those men's eyes turn to her, shocked at the gall of such a woman, and I flipped over so much in love with her – still. And I knew I loved her like I would never love another. And I was so pleased with myself that she saw me perform so well, figured I was shining in her eyes… I momentarily forgot that I had broken both of our hearts. And there is an irony to this tale, because I have discovered that in finding her imperfection she is even more perfect, for it is this very thing that is essential in making her real. And the impossibility of her perfection for me somersaults away, end over end, making sense and then not making sense. And I know only one thing, we were meant to be. I was right, she is the one for me.**_

 _ **I am fighting such a strong urge to march right over to her home and declare my love – tell her how stupid I have been. Beg for her to take me back. It's past midnight you daft old bugger, I hear the Inspector's voice in my head. I'll do it tomorrow. Invite her to the battery exhibit. And thank her for helping with the ruse to identify George's real mother… perfect!**_

He closed the plain, brown journal and said, eyes still down on the book, "Well, we both know how perfect that plan turned out to be." William lifted his eyes to meet those of his wife and offer her his wrinkled face in apology and admission. Delightfully, she giggled.

Now it was her turn to put his journal aside and treat his wounds. "Husband," she started, crawling on top of him as he had done to her earlier, "You could not have known that I had collapsed into self-loathing and become blinded by my imagining that you thought badly of me."

Welcomingly, he pulled her into his lap tighter and agreed, "No, I could not." He played with her curls and went on, "How much I wish I had given in to the urge to go to you right then. Perhaps it was not too late?" he asked.

"Midnight? That is quite late," she teased. Changing to a more thoughtful tone, she said, "Perhaps, such a pouring out of your heart would have convinced me then, but I had walked away from the park bench… where I had told you about my abortion, I got up off of that bench, William, believing you were disgusted by me. That idea was in my head _before_ your lecture at the university. It would have taken quite a bit to get it out," she explained. "I don't think I actually did get that thought out of my head completely until what you said to me just now, about thinking I was kind and good… back then," she added.

He nodded. _Still, he wished he had tried_.

Julia's thoughts had moved forward. She shared, "I think that's why I felt I deserved the suffering that seeing you with another woman caused me." She tightened her lips, reacting to the bad taste of the memory in her mouth. She paused, his eyes intensely present with her, compassionate, wondering.

"William, I truly don't know how I remained standing, kept breathing, with the pain I felt when I saw you standing there with Mrs. Jones through your office window. It completely knocked me over, knocked the breath out of me," she told him. William wrinkled his mouth with regret. Julia reached out and rubbed his chest. Let her eyes drop away and admire him. "I have you now," she reassured herself.

"You had me then," he corrected, "It's just that neither of us knew it."

"True," she agreed with a tiny smile, and a cocky glance.

He reached over and turned out his lamp. She crawled off of him and turned out hers as well. They found each other again in the darkness and she nestled into her spot resting her head on his chest, and all was well as his heartbeat thumped in her ear and she rode the waves of his breaths. It turns out that there was much to be learned from that lecture, so many years ago, much learning from the lecture, indeed.


	26. 26: Was i the First?

Journal Journeys_Was I the First?

Approaching their front door, Julia noticed a pang of guilt in her gut. She sighed, admitting it to herself – she felt guilty about enjoying – _truly enjoying_ – teaching her forensic medicine course at the Women's College, at what felt like a great cost to her son at this very moment. It kept her away from the baby even more hours of the day, and making matters worse, she was almost back to working full time at the morgue as well. Deep down, she wondered if William resented her choice, her pursuing her career interests over caring for their son. Julia paused before turning the key in the lock, pushed herself to take a taller stance, to proceed with confidence, albeit somewhat fake at this very moment. She thought to herself, as she stepped into the house, that neither of the women working within had ever seemed to judge her badly for her choice, and, if she were truly honest with herself, neither had William.

Placing her coat on the rack and unpinning her hat, she observed that William's coat and hat were not yet hanging in their place, as she listened for clues as to the whereabouts of her baby and his nanny. Quickly, she noted that Eloise was cooking in the kitchen, the smells registering first, instantly charging her stomach with an awareness of its emptiness. " _Not in the living room_ ," she told herself, already turning her attention to the staircase down to the basement playroom. It was not until she was halfway down the flight of stairs that she heard the evidence – Claire-Marie's voice, talking to the, now just over a year-old, baby boy. It was William Jr. who realized she was home first, his squeal of delight and rapid crawling to the steps drawing Claire-Marie's attention to Julia's arrival.

Julia scooped the child up into her arms and gave him bundles of loving. Claire-Marie rushed to tell the baby's mother the stories of the day. "He was so close to taking a step! You should have seen!" she declared. Suddenly a panic swarmed through her. _Surely the baby's mother would want to be the one to witness his first steps…_ "He fell back on his bum, though…" she added, hoping she had concealed the truth.

"Yes," Julia acknowledged, "His usual downfall thus far." She lifted her son away to look him in those beautiful, William-like eyes of his, and explained, "It is a good thing for you, little one, that little babies have such short legs…"

"And puffy nappies," Claire-Marie added, the two women sharing in a laugh.

They headed upstairs, Julia reassuring her son, and perhaps herself, "Don't you worry though, you'll get this walking thing soon enough."

Upstairs, she informed Eloise and Claire-Marie that her husband was engaged in a heroic battle with this latest case, and it was best not to wait dinner for him. Of course, Eloise was well aware of this, a stickler for reading multiple versions of the day's news in the various papers. She had prepared the detective's favorite meal – well at least one of them, for it was hard to tell which of her meals he liked best. She was making an effort to comfort the man after he had been so mercilessly raked over the coals by the press and his superiors and the politicians.

) (

The waft of warm air in William's face welcomed him as he finally made it home and stepped in the front door. Hanging his hat, and then his maroon scarf, he heard Julia call him from the living room, her voice repressing excitement.

"Daddy's home, little one," she encouraged, her fingers clutched gingerly by William Jr.'s plump little baby fingers, the boy standing facing away from her, placing that promising first foot forward and planting it on the ground before letting go of the security of his mother's handles.

Dropping his bulky envelope file to the floor off to the side, his long coat draping all over the floor behind him, William squatted down a few feet in front of her and his year-old son on the living room floor and opened his arms, inviting the baby to step forward.

Wobbly, but astoundingly quickly, William Jr. did just that. One, two, three, four, and he was in his Daddy's arms.

The smiles were huge, expressing their parental joy. "Julia," William, thrilled, exclaimed, "How did you know? His first steps!"

The baby's eyes appeared to be mesmerized by his father's happy face.

 _It happened so fast, Julia's dilemma, her mind splitting off for a second, wondering to herself if she should tell him…_

"Sorry William. Those weren't his first," she almost heard herself tell before she had decided, for William Jr. had taken two steps right after dinner, these four being the baby's second ones…

Just then, William Jr. uttered, his big, brown eyes looking distinctly at William, "Dada," as his chubby little baby finger reached up to explore his father's eyeball.

"You got that first, though, husband…" Julia happily said acknowledging their son's first word, "Um, I mean, Dada." She held out her arms, William ascertaining that she wanted to try to get the baby to walk back to her.

"Mommy wants you, little man," he replied, turning the boy to face Julia, helping by holding his hands high to aid in balancing, "Go to Mommy. Go get your Mama…"

Surrounded by groans of disappointment, William Jr. dropped down to his hands and knees and expertly crawled over to his mother.

"Oh, well," Julia said, catching the child. She stood the boy up on the floor in front of her. "Mama. Mama," she coached him. For her efforts, she got a baby finger poked into her eye as well. Partially to protect herself and partially to delight her son, she stood up tall, lifting him up in the air with a fling and swinging him side to side, playing, and being rewarded with his shrieks of delight.

Picking up the bulging envelope file from the floor, William stood too, undoing the buttons of his coat as he watched his wife and his son. Julia's eyes shifted, becoming fixed on the envelope file, her brain imagining him working on whatever was contained inside of it into the wee hours of the morning, and then she remembered aloud, "The envelope… It reminds me of the night after our green fairy adventures in the park, with the bottle of absinthe…"

Their eyes joined, an anticipation filling the air. Holding the baby on her hip, Julia reached up to slide his coat over, first one of his broad shoulders, then over the other, as she admired his body and spoke, her eyes fascinated by his various manly curves and bulges. She removed his suit jacket as well, continuing, "I had worried that… well, perhaps we would pretend it had never happened. You brought the absinthe bottle into the morgue, removed it from the envelope. Typical, the case seemed to be all that was on your mind."

Julia's eyes lifted to meet William's, entrancing and magnetic, they stung his breath. "William, I don't think I've ever been as happy as I was when you hesitated and then kissed me good morning," she told.

Finding himself speechless, William smiled and bowed and gave her a winsome nod. It made her giggle, and then she gave him a kiss.

Changing the subject, she said, "I waited for you. It's your night for his bottle," getting back to the more pressing matters of the moment. "Do you still want…"

"I do," William hurried to reply, but then his eyes betrayed his inner struggle, glancing down at the envelope file still in his hand.

Julia would help him with his decision, his big, brown eyes jumping to hers.

She sighed, in a way reassuring him, for she had empathy with his troubles. "There will only be one opportunity, William, to feed your son his botte on the night he took his first steps and he said his first word – and it was 'Dada'…"

His mind raced away with a nagging thought at the same time that he yielded to his desires and reached for their son – _there may only be one chance to catch this killer too…_

Julia took his coat, jacket, and the envelope file, and eased some of his worries, as she told him, "It won't take long. I've already started the bottle… And you can give it to him while I heat up your dinner," her smile warm and loving, brought a sigh of relief to his chest, and a grateful smile. "Eloise made you beef stew," she added as she hung his coat and laid the envelope file on the table in the foyer and the family headed for the kitchen.

Each going about their tasks, Julia teased him as she worked at the stove, "Of course, even Eloise couldn't make a beef stew as good as Mrs. Kitchen's. Speaking of which…"

Julia walked over to where he sat at the kitchen table feeding William Jr. his bottle, the child quiet now and entranced by the pleasant feelings of being fed and loved. She caught William's eye, reached over to run her fingers through his hair. "You need a haircut," she said, her voice both cocky and seductive in tone.

William nodded, his eyes glued to hers. "I've been so… busy…" _his tongue had almost said 'distracted,' but he did not want to admit that much to her_ , "I guess I hadn't noticed it had been so long." William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, knowing the expression would melt her.

Julia's fingers slipped down to his cheek, explored his afternoon shadow. Passions rose. A question formed on her face and she asked, moving closer, "Does she shave you too, William?"

"Mm," he nodded.

" _Interesting_ ," Julia thought, her body responding to the thought of the intimacy of Mrs. Kitchen shaving her William's handsome face whipping up a wave of both jealousy and lust in her.

"Huh," she said, sounding a bit stunned.

William raised an eyebrow at her, wondering.

Giggling at herself, feeling the next emotion sweep through her – embarrassment – Julia responded, "She's a lucky woman." She found she needed to swallow down her strong reaction.

"Is it something you would like to do?" William asked matter-of-factly, reveling in her fingers' daliances on his cheek, his chin, his jaw, roused by the scratchy sensation of his short stubble catching with her touch.

"I would," she admitted, leaning down, coming titillatingly close to his face, tempting him, taunting a kiss.

"Shall we make it a date for tomorrow morning?" he suggested, leaning forward while securing the baby in his arms, opening himself to her advances more blatantly.

"Better on Saturday," she smiled… the chemistry between them sufficing to explain the reasons she preferred the more private and cozy day.

He agreed, and tilted his head, inviting her kiss.

Soft, her lips touched his, her warm breath flowed over his face. It lingered between them, the promise of what was to come.

)

Soon, William Jr. was fed and burped and ready for bed. Julia took him up to tuck him in while William started to eat.

William half-way through with his stew, Julia came back down to join him at the table. He had been reading the papers from this morning that Eloise had brought for him, a generous tradition between the two of them that he quite adored. He sighed, deep and long and troubled. "Tomorrow's will be worse, I'm afraid," he said.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she answered him truthfully, knowing how much more awful things had gotten since this morning. Thinking that Eloise had made William the beef stew because she knew he was having such a hard time, Julia added, "I wonder what Eloise will make for you tomorrow?" with a cheerying giggle.

Grateful, William smiled. "She is lovely," he said. His eyes dropped back down onto the newspaper.

And she saw a frown take his face. "Don't worry William, you'll solve it," she offered.

Briefly puzzled, but so very charged with excitement, she gazed into his face. There was a twinkle in his eye – so unexpected.

William pushed his chair over from around the corner of the table to place it in front of hers, then reached down and took a firm hold of the leg of her chair, turning it, pulling her close. His chair right in front of hers, he leaned to her, took a curl in his fingers and said, "A wise woman once reminded me that it is _WE_ who find connections, _WE_ who solve cases…"

" _My God, she is beautiful_ ," he thought.

Her body tingled with the thrill… _he was going to kiss her…_

She felt his breath on her, almost felt his lips. "A wise and quite beautiful woman," he whispered, just before…

And Julia's mind raced back and forward as the spin took her, remembering that kiss, outside the opera house when she had told him that they would find the answers together. _Oh_ , her breath raced out of her body, _it had been magnificent. And my God this kiss rivaled it._

As their kiss broke off she said, battling to find words, her voice raspy, "I think that was the first time I ever kissed you in a top hat," her smile charming and playful.

"Mm," he agreed, "Probably true." He pulled back, seemed to soak the sight of her in, admiring, cherishing. "Absolutely beautiful," he agreed with himself, remembering her that night, dressed in an elegant golden gown, little flowers sprinkled in her hair, checking over her shoulder before she boldly tucked him against a slightly more secluded wall and kissed him. _He had considered proposing then. Intrusively, the memory hit him, Julia showing him the photograph supposedly taken by James Gillies… then the sting of his rejected proposal outside of her home, the floor falling out from under him as he couldn't believe he had lost her again..._

Julia too, had remembered the kiss had been photographed, but instead chose the moment to tease him about his lack of enthusiasm for the opera, "Perhaps the kiss made up for your suffering through Verdi's Rigoletto?"

"Tenfold," he whispered in her ear, then kissing and nibbling down her jawbone to take his wife into a deliciously slow and fiery kiss.

) (

A twitch, Julia was suddenly awake. William's lamp still on at their bedside, she realized he had not yet come to bed. _He would be in his workroom_ , she told herself. First, a quick check on the baby, then, down to the basement. She found him there, at his desk, burning the midnight oil, but he had collapsed over the piles of papers… He had fallen asleep.

A somewhat sneaky smile slipped on her face as she thought, " _Detective… didn't even loosen your tie_." Shaking her head at her husband's buttoned-up ways, she approached.

"William," she said softly, calling him to wake. Tenderly, she slid her fingers into his hair and scratched her nails across his scalp.

He lifted his head, and leaned back into her care.

He anticipated some of his wife's humor, thus he was not surprised at the smugness in her voice as she said, "William Murdoch, I'm pretty sure this is not what they meant when they recommended that if you have a problem you should ' _sleep on it_."

 _Endearing really, the way she laughed at her own jokes._

He would give her credit for this one, briefly William chuckled. But he knew the game, following the chuckle with a scowl, which made her giggle in return.

Accepting the need for sleep, he willingly let her coax him to bed. Just a few steps up from the basement, however, he began to tell her, "Actually doctor, I believe you would be fascinated with what I have discovered."

The awe and excitement in his tone paused her there.

He went on, "I was photographing the knife and I thought to use the filter I've been working on… on the camera, to block out visible light from the spectrum, so you can better see the ultra-violet radiation. I thought it would help to better see any blood on the weapon, like when you put it under ultra-violet light."

 _The electromagnetism, the gravity, the tug, the charge, between them grew._

Showing she grasped his work, she added, "It has been a problem photographing such evidence, the regular light dominating over the glowing ultra-violet under the brightness of the flashbulb…"

"But, well… it didn't work. But Julia," his eyes glittered with the exhilaration of what he was about to tell her, "Well, I was holding the knife… for the picture. And when I developed it… Do you remember…" he held his hand out in front of her, their motion up the staircase completely halted now, "I had badly bruised this hand, all the knuckles…"

"Yes, that famous Murdoch punch…" she nodded, _fighting the urge to giggle with the ironic contradictions of her use of the pun of the alcoholic drink, '_ punch _,' knowing that her teetotaling husband would never himself indulge in such a thing, versus William's impressive talent and prowess as an 'intelligent thug,' one with quite a good '_ punch _,' in the end. The thoughts were drowned away as multiple memories firecrackered in her brain. One was of remembering the time she had learned of William's punching Darcy while overhearing the Inspector… and then of their huge, horrible fight afterwards. And then another, this one still to this day bringing her to cringe, of William beating the Black Hand man, coming dangerously close to killing him, back when she was helping him fake Anna Fulford's death after the baseball game. Behind those memories played a more recent one, of William's loss of control when Candace Riley had attempted to seduce him in the cloakroom at a charity function, and then the woman had accused William of attacking her when confronted by Mr. Riley, and when William had revealed Mrs. Riley's note as proof that it was Mr. Riley's_ **wife** _who had done the accosting, the man belted his wife right there and then, leading William to batter Mr. Riley silly… And then that memory triggered another one, seemingly taking her full circle, of William dressed as the Mad Hatter, under the influence of drinking a drugged glass of punch, and then William's punching the dreadful Mr. Littlefair after he had hit his wife, Littlefair ultimately being the same man who had raped and brutalized Constance Gardner, and William being accused of murdering the villain later that night… and William ending up in jail charged with murder, and then Julia felt it – with an ache, she still regretted that she had been too wrapped up in her wedding to help William as she should have back then…_

Pushing away from the thoughts, Julia's eyes fell from William's sparkling brown ones, focusing down on his hand held out before her. Certain it was his point, she remembered that just a few weeks ago it had been terribly black-and-blue. Julia nodded, noting that there was no longer any visible evidence left to indicate his hand had been hurt.

William swallowed and coached himself to slow down, anticipating the impact his discovery would have on her and treasuring it, "Well, in the photograph you can see, very clearly, the bruises – almost like a ghost."

"Show me," she said with a childlike glee, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down the stairs.

As he showed her the photograph and they compared it to his real hand, William noticed that Julia had subconsciously reached up to stroke her shoulder, near where it connected to her neck. She was softly rubbing the spot, with a medical precision, examining, feeling for any anomalies in the skin and tissues, sensing for heat, or for subtle swelling perhaps, but finding none detectable.

He remembered, then asked, "Where I bit you… when we were…"

Her smile, _a glow that warmed down to his toes_ , before she replied, "Yes William. That was about a month ago." _She decided not to go into how she knew it was a month ago, that she had been particularly… ready. And she was fully aware it was that time of the month again, and she already knew her husband also likely was attentive to her cycles, and thus he knew so as well_. "I wonder…"

William's head took to nodding with the extension of her thought blossoming in his mind. "If the ultra-violet filter could allow us to still see the mark in a photograph?!" he exclaimed excitedly, already gathering up the items needed for the test. "We could see if the bruising is detectable even after a month," he added.

" _Perhaps even better_ ," she thought, " _we could see how it works with a bruise over time_ …"

A devilish look spread over Julia's face, and as William glanced sideways at her and caught a glimpse of it, his heart skipped and his groin reached, and he found himself captured, stunned, now being her prey just waiting for her attack.

"William," her voice lured so seductively, and she stepped closer, and the world spun, and his breathing raced and barreled, his eyes opened into shimmering pools of lustful wanting. "Perhaps a little experiment…" Her fingers moved to his tie…

 _My God, he didn't even remember he still had on his tie…_

William swallowed, his eagerness sucking away all his blood and his ability to think and all he wanted in the world was to touch her and taste her…

"I do believe my husband quite likes experiments. I mean it was his idea we conduct that first one…" she teased, buttons going, "Remember William, hmm… in the park with the green fairies all around us…"

 _His suspenders, slipping over his shoulders, then her hands riding his arms to drop them, surrender them… Such a foggy soupiness closing in all around…_

William swallowed again, desperation winning over him with the thought, " _Suspenders hold up pants…"_ His knees buckled with the surging of his groin and the swirling away of his head, and the start of the collapse startled him into taking up the fight to regain control. He leaned into the deluging maelstrom, fought forward to hunt for the words, sensed they were in his grasp, solidifying into syllables – speakable syllables, the challenge registering too late, for he heard the dry, scratchy sound of his own voice as he asked her, "An experiment?"

And she giggled, aware of the switch in their two roles compared to that first time.

And he stepped closer, showing he had mastered his own feet once again, and his hand slipped around her waist and he tugged her, loving the way her head snapped back the slightest bit as inertia took her, brought her, to him. "Such an experiment, if I understand your plan, doctor, would involve me biting you…" William's eyes dropped down to her neck, and his blood surged through his every cell on a direct path to his groin, with the memories flooding through him, of biting her while in the throes of extremely passionate, demanding, thrusting, and loving and pounding love.

His stop, his breathing, so enchanting, she struggled for a foothold to give a reply. _How tightly he had held her, how deep and strong and magical his sultry lovemaking had been, and then the sharpness, the taking of her, so completely and utterly taking her, with his teeth holding her in place so he could thrust deeper and deeper into her with all his might_ , and she swooned there…

And he had her, held her against his hard body as she melted. The luscious wave of having to touch each other intimately, to be drowned in their perfect connection – NOW – swept in, and he kissed her, cherishing the feeling of her body growing even heavier in his arms as she succumbed to her desire for him. _Yes, this experiment was going to happen, here, and now_. Her nightgown, over her head, gone. His trousers, undone, gone. Cold, hard, the surface of his worktable under her bottom, the urgency of their hunger displayed in the sounds of his treasured innovations and evidence clattering away with his shoves to make the needed space. He climbed on top of her. _My God those kisses. His body is so hard. The way he molds and pumps…_

"William… Oh my God, William… Please," she heard her own voice drift and plead in the hot, moist air around them.

" _Slow it down, William_ ," his own voice coached at him. His big arms tight, her supple, soft, body hugged snuggly to him, he lifted and rolled, putting Julia on top. _She was in charge. And she was beautiful, so, so beautiful. "How could she be so beautiful?"_ his mind taunted him. _The curves of her_ … He had to touch.

Straddling him, the sight of William below her, mesmerized and floored by his wanting her, stole her breath away. Her hands explored his body. Firm, and strong, and magnificent, his flesh. She watched, him plummeting away as she took him in her hand, held him, tight enough that he was hers, not so tight that he couldn't move.

 _ **Up**_ , my God as her fingers rippled over his edge… _**Down**_ , and the world rocketed away with the scrumptious sensations, and his breath caught and he fought against the moan, yielding in the end, for it was unbearable. Each reverse of direction killing him, completely, totally… and again and again. Julia teased him mercifully, until his body surrendered and he bucked up to her with his pent-up lust.

 _Inside her_ , his heart threatened to burst for he wanted it so frantically, to be _inside her_. William drowned under her motions. Such a fight not to thrust up to her again as she wiggled on him, rubbed, and rubbed again, and rubbed again, and her breasts, so creamy and delicious, jiggled with her oscillating movements and he took the glorious orbs in hand and the flesh squashed and mushed and gave way within his fingers, so moldable and pliant, _and he just couldn't bear it. He couldn't. He wanted to touch her, so much more deeply…_

 _Pow,_ he flipped her and he pressed down on her and he pushed apart her thighs…

Considering the tilt, the abandoned breathlessness of her desperate wanting him inside of her, Julia still managed to have the wherewithal to do it… as she knew he was about to… _oh my God he was about to…_ "Please…" her anticipation made her moan with the excruciating wrenching of the tighter and tighter knotting of her womb. William lifted and lowered, and touched her lush warm slippery waiting, and she anticipated the smothering heat of his lips, velvety, over her neck, her skin tingling, praying, as he opened his mouth to take her and clamp her solidly in place for his penetration, and she remembered it needed to be the other side… for the photos. And she turned her head and offered her flesh to him, and he bit in, and he pushed in, the pressure rushing up and biting down to spin her brain with the pleasure of it, and their moans in synchrony flared, and he pushed in deeper, and she loved him so much it brought tears to her eyes, and the rhythm started, the push and pull of it rocking her away… Nothing mattered more in all the world than having him touch her. "Don't stop," she whispered, weak, in his ear, the words hammering into his brain and surging him with even more power into her.

He would never stop, never. It was impossible to love her more, and yet he did, he would love her _so hard, so terribly, terribly hard,_ until… _She was right there. He had her. Right there_. He pounded and stretched and thrust with every last drop of himself he reached for her. And the inevitableness floated, soaring over the summit, weightlessness with the shift, gravity collapsing… Wham, slow and overpowering, the sheer heaven of it flooded and soaked and steamed and erupted, and exploded outward to fill his every molecule with warm, succulent love. His kisses, worshipping her, _grateful to God for her_ , he tasted the salt of her tears on her face. _She loved him, my God she loved him._

Then a little giggle wafted upward, shaking him from beneath.

Her spent, exhausted, breathless voice played, "Mmm, you are a good lab partner. I'd do an experiment with you any time, detective," she told him, her body still squashed and melty and pumping softly now and then underneath him.

Eventually they recovered from the dizzying paradise of their lovemaking and William took the experiment's photographs with the UV filter – one of her old lovebite, one of this newly-made one. He would photograph the fading lovebites with the filter every day to document the progress of the bruising in her flesh, to investigate the innovative technique's use for detecting the presence and extent of older injuries.

) (

Up in bed in the dark in the middle of the night, each of them having found a second wind, and not drawn to sleep, William wondered aloud, "So, as far as lab partners go…" He felt her smile on his chest. _Yes, the good doctor did enjoy a little playful mischief now and then._

She squeezed him tighter and threatened, "Dare you ask… knowing you weren't my first?"

The hesitation was riveting, for despite his confidence that Julia had never enjoyed lovemaking with another as much as she did with him, there was still a risk. Julia lifted herself up above him in their bedroom darkness trying to pull as much of him into sight as possible.

Urging himself to produce the cockiest voice he could muster, William replied, "Not the first, but…" He wrinkled a corner of his mouth, almost apologizing, somehow suspecting that Julia knew he did so despite her inability to actually see him.

She chuckled at his brashness. "William Murdoch," she started, "you never cease to amaze me. Does your male ego really need to hear it?"

"Need?" he questioned.

She plopped back down on him, heavier with her contentment. She was having fun and she had decided to give him what it was he so desperately sought after. Unable to do it without rolling her eyes, however, she responded, "Not the first, but the best… lab partner, that is," she added to keep him from getting exactly what he wanted.

As he usually did, he answered her simply. "Good," he said.

Tit for tat, now it was her turn.

"William," she drew him to alert, basking in the resulting stiffening she detected in him as he braced. "Was I your first?" she asked. Immediately, she, herself, felt the terror of his discomfort and in an effort to ease it, she rushed to babble on, "I mean… I know about Ettie… But, well, um… What I mean is, I've never been sure, about… the carnal act…"

She left it dangling there.

Reluctant, William instinctively turned to his interrogation skills to avoid answering. "And how many… lab partners… did you have before me, I wonder," he deflected.

Julia would give, also knowing that, to receive, it is often necessary to give, and she was intensely intrigued. _Oh yes, she really, really wanted to know_.

Her voice rebounded well, her tone confident and comfortable, but mostly giving that she trusted him completely. "You already know that with Darcy it wasn't until our wedding night…" she felt him nod, "And I… you know I got pregnant…" She waited for him now.

He rolled over on his side, their faces across from each other, breath mingling in the dark. "Yes. But I don't know if it was only the one time, when you got pregnant, and not… if there were others…" William asked, and then unfortunately he needed to clear his throat, "others besides Darcy and the man with whom you became pregnant."

"So, if I tell… you'll tell," Julia laid out the rules.

"Mm," he agreed, butterflies in his stomach.

Subconsciously hoping to reassure him, Julia slid under him. She waited for him to touch her, _delightful…_ he started as he often did, with a wayward curl. _She planned. She would be truthful, but unspecific… she hoped._ Still, as she started to speak, she nestled even tighter underneath him, wiggling and snuggling into the one place she knew he felt most in control. "I did make love with the man who got me pregnant more than once. All in all, it was…" _drat, she needed to swallow, for her voice was growing dry_ , "… four times." Able to tell that William was about to ask for more details – details which she did not want to share, she hurried to add, "And there were no others until Darcy."

His lips kissed her ear in the dark, traveled kisses to her mouth… covered her lips, so soft, he kissed her, changed the tilt and kissed her again.

Warmth, just a red glowing ember, rising inside of her. She held to him tighter, her want mounting. "I never thought it could be like it is with us, William," she whispered, and then her body writhed under him, her teeth, sharp, sucking his earlobe, taking it in her mouth, promising drowning him in her slippery heat, her breath, surging and flaring, rattled down into his brain, rendering it soupy and swirly, and wonderfully dizzy.

William's hands began to knead and ride her body, only heightening the flames. The wrenching in her womb seized her breath, wrung every drop of her life's blood, moistening her, weakening her.

"William," her smoky call, whispered and floated and pleaded in the dark.

 _But,_ it was as he shifted, his hand down over her belly, hard against her hip bone, _so quiet his moan_ , and then down, down, to her thigh, and he pressed…

 _And her world began to catapult…_

 _But then_ … she remembered – _**he didn't tell**_ _!_

"William Henry Murdoch," Julia's voice challenged as she shoved against her burly husband, shifting their positions, rising up over him as she pushed him onto his back. _She loved that he yielded, that he let her_. She chuckled, hearing him swallow.

There was a huff from her, annoyed, and invigorated, and having the advantage. "So, you think that just because I told you that you were the best… that I would just melt away with your… attentions… and what? I'd never remember our deal?"

Now, William had honestly not planned it that way, but he had to admit, he would have preferred it. His head shook side-to-side in denial, but no words came, the embodiment of his inner conflict.

His silence only fed her power. "A deal's a deal, William Murdoch. Now spill," she demanded.

Squirming, he was actually squirming. " _Why was this so hard for him_ ," she wondered. His struggle only intrigued her more.

 _Oh, how he hated this feeling_ , scared, desperate, clinging to any string of hope to get out… _My God, he wanted out…_

Her husband's reluctance to tell her, his apparent inability to push himself to do so, for Julia knew William well, and he was trying, she was sure of it, it prompted the psychiatrist in her to offer up some ideas. " _Shame_ ," the word hit her, _he must feel ashamed_. _But with William, that could be just about anything, a more prudish man… well 'prudish' wasn't quite the right word… maybe buttoned-down, straight-laced, conservative…_ Julia's brain battled with her thoughts.

"Julia," William's voice asked, called for her empathy and compassion. "I… uh, I…" he stuttered and spurted.

 _And still, she noticed, so deliciously, he squirmed._ Letting him off the hook, she suggested, "How about our journals… Did you ever write about your, um experiences, or lack there of, in your journal, William?" Many a time their journals had opened up their thoughts, easing the negative the effects of each of them so living in their heads.

 _She had offered up a solution, he was sure of it!_

"Um," William stalled, wishing her idea would work, but fairly certain he had not written about his first time. "I um… I didn't have a journal…" There, suddenly, he halted. Her question had been answered, it seemed, and his wife was bright, she would know so. William's heart pounded, thundering wildly in his chest.

" _So, he did have sex with someone before me – before his, 'everything but,' with Ettie!"_ Julia marveled at the discovery, screaming the news inside of her head.

" _She's going to ask! She's going to ask! Think of something!_ " William ordered himself.

Wanting to return the mood to the more playful one of earlier, Julia said, "So you did have another lab partner… for a similar experiment."

"Mm-hmm," he gave, shifting their bodies in the night, reaching for his lamp. _He thought he had written, ever so subtly, a brief comment, about it. "Early on,"_ he remembered, " _Not after the absinthe, later than that… But it was about Julia, not Enid…"_

"Enid," William's voice announced as the light hit the room.

 _And Julia's heart stabbed, once again hurting with the pain of losing him, of seeing William with another…_

William explained, set the context, as he opened the night table drawer and took out his brown-covered journal, "I was with Enid, but I couldn't get you out of my mind…"

 _Such a lift swept her as he said it, somehow saved, she felt the tingles of knowing it was true, that even then, even when he had taken up with another woman, he had loved her._

"It was when we were working on that case with…" William frowned slightly and continued, "George thought it was a werewolf."

 _Oh, she remembered it!_ The puzzle pieces began to shift in her brain. He had looked at her… _My God, she remembered. William could look so gorgeous sometimes, absolutely dazzling and irresistible…_

He leafed through the pages. "You had found a wolf's tooth," he remembered. "Ah," he said. He had found it. Before reading it to her, he checked. The entry was long, and he remembered that, if he had written about this at all, it had been minimally. He wanted to be certain it was there.

"Yes," he told. Sitting up to rest his back against the bed's headboard, he invited her to join him. She snuggled into his arms, laid her head down on his shoulder, and he held the journal out so they could both see his words. He read the entry aloud.

" **Amazing – Enid seeing when I could not, cracking the dam of my denial. Standing with her today in my office, a wolf's tooth…"**

William paused, giving Julia a moment to realize that he was writing about her.

" **I should have been excited for her discovery and how it would influence the case, instead I was captured by her. A curl, really, just the feather soft inkling that I could touch it, and the flood deluged through me…"**

So warm and delicious, Julia remembered the time. She wiggled and nuzzled closer to him. She had felt it at the time, his eyes on her dangling curl.

" **A full-fledged fantasy, passionate, wild, out of control, both of us yielding to unspoken, pent-up desires. How I wish it could be so. And then the shift, between knowing and not knowing, such that I could never go back. She's the one. There will never be another. I had always known it. And now I have so much to do. I must be truthful and honest and decent with Enid. I must let her go. Alwin, now that shatters my heart…"**

William's mouth wrinkled unconsciously, for he was feeling the regret again as he read. He went back to reading.

 **I have to figure out this Poundsett situation, and I must be better, be a better man for her, a man she deserves. "Unbridled passion…" How did she say it… when I was** _ **missing the point**_ **?**

Again, William stopped reading, this time turning to catch her eyes.

" _Interesting,_ " she thought as his eyes held firm. _He wasn't squirming now._

" **Savage and forbidden…demanding their complete surrender." I can do that! The prophylactics need to come back… And after that first time, my poor performance… I've got to get better. I learned a lot with Ettie… about bringing a woman pleasure, but that was never with the real thing…**

His reading stopped, having come to the end of his written words on the page. It had been brief. He wondered if she had caught it.

Julia teased him, sliding her leg over him, her silky skin touching him just so, "The REAL thing, William?"

True to form, William blushed. He cleared his throat and said, "Feng Choy…" William swallowed.

And Julia tried her darndest not to giggle.

William continued, "I ended up going to Chinatown… after meeting Feng Choy…"

Julia nodded. She remembered the case, a constable from Stationhouse 5 unintentionally killing another constable during a fight.

William cleared his throat again and went on, "I asked him for something to enhance a man's performance with a woman. That's when Mr. Choy gave me the Ishinpō book."

Julia rolled up more on top of her husband and took his journal from him, putting it on the table. She whispered, "Remind me to thank Mr. Choy." And she felt the surge in him, underneath her thigh. "Mm," she rumbled in his ear… _so lovely._

Curiosity got to her, though, pushing her to ask him rather than continue seducing him, "Now, tell me about those prophylactics, detective."

William explained that after they had broken apart, he no longer carried a condom with him. "Enid was Catholic," he said, implying there would be no sex before marriage.

"I see," Julia said, slipping and sliding her body succulently over his. "And yet," her words touched with her kiss at his ear, "You did not go to Chinatown looking to better your performance with Mrs. Jones now, did you… hmm?"

Breathless, William answered, "It seemed that if I was going to be with you, it was essential it be earthshattering in quality."

"Oh, it has been detective. Believe me, it has been," she disclosed, tumbling his world with thrill and euphoric joy.

With that, Julia pulled back, returned to her original place at his side, head tucked onto his shoulder. _This had all started with a question about his first. It was not yet done._

Her sigh signaled she would breach it. "So, this ' _poor performance'_ you wrote of…"

Quickly, William nodded, accepting his fate. He would tell her about it. "I was very young. Um, working as a ranch hand. Some men were harassing a young woman… in a bar. They… um, they were also ranch hands, and they were using their ropes to laso her and tie her up."

 _There was a little squirm from him. Julia rode along with it, sticking to him._

After a sigh, for he was about to admit something, William said, "I had been drinking…" He turned to her and their eyes met. There was not an inkling of bad judgement on her face. He smiled and continued. "They started to undress her… and I, uh… I…"

Julia's eyes bugged wide as she lay against him. " _His first time! He didn't… Alcohol affects him, true… but William would never…"_

" _Oh my God, she thinks I…"_ William panicked.

Straightening up with a rush, William insisted, "No. No, I… uh, I punched the biggest one. I'd done some boxing…"

Julia examined his face perceptively. "Boxing?" she questioned, thinking about how very gorgeous he was and how being so contradicted with boxing.

Raising an eyebrow at her, readying to take offense, William defended, "I've been called a 'pretty boy' more than once in my life." William was finding that it didn't sit well with him that his wife thought of him as wimpy too.

Hurrying to explain, Julia said, "William," her voice took on a scolding tone, "I have seen you punch men. I am not surprised that you boxed. It's just that, well… You would be much less… _symmetrical,_ as Detective Watts says, if you had been punched and battered and bloodied and broken."

"Yes," he frowned admitting it. "My boxing career did not last very long. And I did get beaten up pretty badly that day…" He wrinkled his face considering the memories of his ensuing fight in protecting the woman from his ' _friends_.' He added, "Most of the blows were gut punches – just one or two to the face. Our boss showed up at the bar and fired his gun into the air. The woman was… grateful, I guess."

 _How she lit up the world when she smiled like that,_ William thought _._

"Women tend to fall in love with their heroes, William. Don't underestimate yourself," she said.

He wrinkled his face endearingly and admitted sheepishly about his chance with the woman, his internal battle with his embarrassment coming to the forefront, "It was…" he needed to clear his throat as the lovely colors of blushing appeared on his face again, "Um… it was _**quick**_ … I would say."

Repressing her giggle to save him from any further discomfort, she asked, "I believe that is quite common, William… being too _quick_. Especially the first time."

Silence for a moment, reflections abound, Julia broke it, adding, "I'm quite glad that I was _**not**_ your first, after all…" a mischievous smile taking her face, "The price I have to pay for EARTHSHATTERING, I guess."

With that, again, in the middle of the night, _**for what was likely the millionth time**_ , sparks flew for the Murdoch's. Remarkable, how with the two of them, it could always feel like it was magical, like it was the first time.

)) ((


	27. 27: A Chance Encounter

Journal Journeys: A Chance Encounter

Every inch of William's gorgeously tuxed body exuded impatience. Sitting on the elegant, posh chair in the entranceway to the fancy club, alone, his leg fidgeted with a fast rhythm, sighs occasionally flooding out of him. He would have trouble hiding it, his annoyance with his wife. It was late. Everyone else had already left. Yet, here he was, sitting here by the door, alone, abandoned, tired, irritated. A thought rolled through his mind, " _Mass tomorrow_ ," the mental reminder surging his anger. " _She knows I have early Mass tomorrow,_ " his thoughts ran away from him. " _She is the most selfish, unappreciative bit…"_ He slammed his shameful thoughts down, stopping the curse from finishing in his head, startled by the extreme degree of his own resentment.

But still, his teeth remained gritted together, his bitterness did not dissipate. And still he waited. He hated these galas. _He only came to this, to any of these things really, for her_. A jerk, an impulse, and he was up, pacing. He blew out a bunch of hot air, started again to reason with himself. " _She does plenty of things for you too, William,_ " he tried. But then a nastier voice rang up in his brain, " _She thinks you'll wait here for her forever,"_ its tone snide and belittling.

Voices, women's voices, down the hall. _She was coming._

William made an effort to unclench his jaw, to appear to be the good-hearted man of his reputation and habits.

Laughing together, carefree and light, Julia and her friend approached.

It rose in him, unnoticeably. Too late to completely mask it, for he had already turned to face them. _She was having fun, while she made him wait here for her – alone._

Not even catching his eye, Julia called across the marble-lined hallway, as she tucked her arm into her companion's, "William, I'm sorry we took so long. Marcie and I had quite a bit of catching up to do."

" _And drinking to too_ ," he mumbled to himself in his head. " _Great!_ " he had forgotten, " _Of course, she would be drunk too."_

 _As if he were some statue standing there in the hallway_ , his wife turned her full attention back to her friend.

"Now Marcie, the first cab we get will be for you. But, are you sure you don't want us to see you home?" Julia mothered and nurtured the woman.

"No. No Julia. We live too far, and it's late. I'll be fine," she replied. The eyes of the two women held.

And Julia saw the tears swelling in Marcie's eyes, and her heart tugged at her again. Her face showed it, and Marcie opened her arms and pulled Julia into a hug.

Her voice tangled in Julia's curls, quiet, "Thank you Julia."

Julia's whisper back to her friend returned assuredly, warmly, "You're more than welcome. It will work out in the end. You'll see," she encouraged as she pulled free of the embrace.

Interestingly, William Murdoch, the astute and observant detective, seemed to miss the intimacy and caring of this exchange between Julia and her old friend, too distracted by his own fury, having been caught by, having become completely stuck by, the part of their conversation where Julia had offered that _THEY_ would see the woman home, as if she believed that _THEY_ would do exactly whatever Julia's little heart desired. He had gathered that, now, _he_ would need to hail TWO cabs and stepped out to find the second one. He had already paid the driver of the only cab waiting there extra just to stay and wait. _My God, he felt such anger_.

Having rather quickly secured the second cab, William rejoined the two women up the steps and in the entranceway. They sat together where he had sat waiting for so long. Julia stood and approached him, her body language telling that she would want to tell him something secretly. A part of him figured an apology would come, an explanation.

"We need to pay for her cab, William," she whispered.

Such disappointment deluged in him, prompting him to snidely respond, "Of course. Why not?"

His comment landed like a rock. Amazing how quickly her tone turned to challenging. "Are you angry with me?" she asked him, barking the whisper.

"No," his answer came too quickly to have been considered, merely a reflex.

Her judging look brought on his tirade. He took her by arm and pulled her further aside for a whispered reprimand. "Julia, you know I don't like to go to these things on Saturday nights, with Church the next morning. And then to top it off, you make us stay here till practically midnight, after everybody else has left, to catch up with an old friend. It's…" he hesitated, trying to control it, but it flowed out of him all the same, "…selfish and inconsiderate."

She leaned even closer to him and said, "I told you I was sorry, William. She thinks her husband is cheating on her. That's why he left her here, after they argued. She thinks he went to the other woman…" Julia's eyes pleaded with him, "She's very upset…"

"Well, now I'm upset too," he steamed and walked away.

)

The couple sat on opposite ends of the carriage seat, each pretending to look out their window. Julia could see, faintly, her own reflection in the glass, the back of William's head behind her. _Time had gotten a bit away from her, as she had to admit to herself, it did sometimes. But still, she couldn't possibly leave Marcie there, abandoned, distraught, her life falling apart around her. Jim hadn't even left her with a way to get home. What kind of friend would have walked away. Talk about being selfish_.

The energy between them remained stiff, charged, and silent… stewing. Once home, they managed to put on the show, thanking Claire-Marie for staying with their 20-month old son, going through the motions of checking on the sleeping toddler, and preparing for bed.

In their sleeping garments, Julia got into bed first, leaving both his lamp and her lamp on. William would turn out the overhead light. She rolled on her side, facing away from where he would lie down next to her. She felt the anger in her body. _It was unreasonable, them fighting over something that was so insignificant in the long run._

His sounds honed her attention behind her, the bathroom light flicking off, footsteps, shadows filling the room when he clicked off the overhead light by the door, then his side of the bed sinking down as he crawled in. It was hot – there were no covers. Still she focused her senses on what she could not see, hearing from him a hesitation, then a sigh. The mattress shifted, anticipation surging in her. _Would he come to her, would he say he was sorry, that this was all a ridiculous overreaction?_

 _No._ No, the weight shifting under her was moving the wrong way. The room grew even darker – he had turned out his lamp. Only Julia's lamp, on her night-side table, left to dimly light the room. Leaving it on would make it appear that _she_ was waiting, that _she_ had something to say. She needed to turn it off. _After all, it was his pettiness, his lack of compassion or understanding that had led to this whole fight. He needed to be the one – not her._ Holding her breath, but unaware of it, she leaned up on an elbow and reached over, blackening the bedroom.

Of course, it was pointless. Neither of them could possibly sleep. William, literally, was lying there on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, defiant, still furious.

And it had been irritatingly, nerve-wrenchingly, silent for so long…

Julia's voice, in the dark, across the August-night heat, stated almost matter-of-factly, "This is stupid, William."

He resisted the urge to yell back at her, his anger harbored by his shame. And truly, there was a part of him that agreed with her. It was in there somewhere, his clearer perspective on all this, he was certain it was. But he could not sense it. _It didn't feel stupid to him_ , and her saying it was so seemed to only insult him more. _No_ , from him there would be no response.

Now Julia Ogden had never been one to avoid poking the bear, and so she turned in the dark, shifting the mattress under them, and pressed him. "You think I'm selfish and inconsiderate?!" she started her retort. "My friend was facing the worst thing she'd ever experienced in her marriage, William. Your expecting me to drop her…"

He felt her lean closer.

"It's you who's being selfish here," she blamed.

William's teeth gritted together so hard he thought he might chip a tooth. _Now she was calling_ **him** _selfish and inconsiderate!_ He was not going to lie here with her, listening to this.

His lamplight blindly intruded the room. His motions, as he gathered up the extra pillow and sheets from the hutch, were jerky, blaring his anger. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to make you sleep with someone you think so little of," he clenched and wrenched and shoved and stacked.

She watched him. _Amazing, he could say such awful things about her, and still, it was William – always poor William – who was the victim of_ _ **her**_ _cruelty_ _ **. It was infuriating!**_

She propped up in the bed and she mocked him, "Poor William, his cruel, selfish wife doesn't dote on him enough. Asks too much of him, never appreciates what he does for her."

His eyes, dark and fiery in the dim light, charred into hers, each of them holding fast to the other, defying. It was William who looked away first, thinking to himself, " _Maybe she doesn't_ ," as he marched over to his side of the bed and turned out the light.

By the time he heard the bedroom door close behind him, fighting with every muscle the urge to slam it, needing to feel in control, to be the more mature one… and remembering the baby down the hall, he felt his shame rising up from deep inside of him, embarrassed about feeling sorry for himself, about having had a childish temper tantrum. Trying to sleep downstairs on the couch, her words sliced deeper and deeper into him, her voice sarcastic in his head, over and over again it played, " _Poor William… Poor William… Poor William_."

Eventually, he found himself sitting up on the couch, the moonlight through the living room window illuminating his dissatisfaction with it all – with himself. He leaned an elbow on the arm of the couch, his fist cupped under his chin, his thumb curving around his jaw in the pose, contemplating. Regret was stealing his thoughts. _She was right. He was being stupid. Of course she loved him and appreciated him. What an idiot he had been_. _Flowers, he'd have to buy her flowers. Tomorrow after Mass._ _That's good, a chance to make up before we have to go to the Policemen/Firemen Charity Baseball Game._ Julia had been one of the main organizers of the event. " _How could I think she was selfish?"_ he scolded himself. He needed to fix it… now.

Stealthy, William's entry into the bedroom. Her breathing was deep, somehow Julia had managed to fall asleep. Not deeply though, for she stirred when he slipped into the bed next to her.

His voice was so lovely in the night. "Come here and let me say I'm sorry," he coaxed.

And she did.

She turned to him, squiggled and wiggled into him, curling her head into his neck, they lay facing each other tucked together. His breath was warm and tickling just above her ear, his fingers stroking her hair gently, as he told her in a soft whisper, "I know you aren't selfish, Julia. And I know you don't take me for granted. And I know you love me, profoundly. And I'm so, so sorry I said those things to you. And I love you with all my heart."

Her reply was simple, quenching. "Good," she said, her dreamy voice muffled against his body.

)

Awakening in the golden morning light to find herself alone in their bed, Julia had trouble deciding if the lovely, lingering, presence of him, of his tender apology in the middle of the night, had been a dream or a memory. She evaluated the evidence – the dent where his head had been in his pillow, _but he had been in bed with her before he went downstairs to sleep on the couch_ … the used bedding folded up and put away in the hutch, _but he could have put it there this morning before he went to Church_ … the same with his pajamas, now folded up and under his pillow. She marveled at the challenge of it, figuring that her state of sleepiness at the time was the ultimate cause of the memory's cloudiness. She had decided that it had happened in the end though, the lightness in her heart the strongest clue.

 _Sunday,_ she and William Jr. would have the house completely to themselves until William got home. It was a big day, the charity event she had planned was today. Lots to do…

)

Pedaling on his bicycle, William's mind covered more ground than his wheels. He had had to wait a long time for Confession, making him now short on time for what was to come. His dozen yellow roses – like at their wedding, tucked safely in the rack on the back of the bike, he noticed the pleasurable relief of the wind as it wrapped around his waist, flapping the back of his suit jacket in the summer breeze of the soft downhill moment, caressing him with coolness like a secret lover. Father Clemmons was wise. And William trusted him beyond measure. He had been able to tell his priest, his friend, about the horrible things he had said to Julia the night before, disclosing the thing about it that made him feel most uncomfortable, that he felt terribly ashamed of his thoughts and his behavior.

The priest's consolement had come, the man sharing, reminding him what he already knew, about how _everyone_ is impatient _sometimes_ , selfish _sometimes_ , generous _sometimes_ … He had asked William if what he had said about Julia at the end of the function last night about her being selfish and inconsiderate was true, _at least sometimes_ , and William had had to admit that it was – _sometimes_. "From what I know of your wife," Father Clemmons had said, "she appreciates you immensely. And I know you would do anything for her, William, and she knows that too. And consider, that you _did_ wait for her, albeit not without complaining. I know your love for Julia, and I'm sure she does too. And just as you are understanding about her sometimes being selfish, she too will likely be understanding about you sometimes being cranky." _Yes, he had been cranky and impatient_ , and he needed to forgive himself for that, just as he had forgiven Julia for sometimes being inconsiderate.

)

Julia stood at the stove deep in thought. She was making William a quick breakfast before he would have to hurry and change, and then they would rush off to the Charity Baseball Game. They needed to be early, for she was on the charity committee organizing the event, and William had agreed to use his old lumberjack equipment to climb up to the top of two tall wooden poles to hang the banner. William sat at the table playing with William Jr. in his high chair. He was coaxing the baby to play with a toy rather than making a mess of his fruit. They sounded happy, and the feeling had spread through her with a glow. But… his flowers resting on the center of the kitchen table had called her mind.

When William had brought her the flowers, Julia had thought to herself, being trained in psychiatry as she was, that sometimes when someone gives another person a gift, _the giver_ is projecting _their own anger_ onto the giftee, thus treating the recipient as if _they_ were the one who was angry in the relationship, as if the receiver was the one needing consoling. Perhaps it was really William who needing consoling. He had been angry with her, an emotion he tended not to acknowledge, especially when it came to be angry with her… Perhaps it was really _**she**_ who needed to apologize to him.

And so, she did, owning up to the fact that she _did_ take him for granted sometimes. She was truly sorry, and after thinking about it, she knew now that she should have handled the situation last night differently. She should have gone to him and let him know what was happening with Marcie and why she wanted to stay later than usual. She was sure he would have understood… but if she had done it that way, instead of just assuming he would be content to wait for her, then he would not have been left out of the decision to stay later, and he would have felt better cared for by her and valued by her. Truly she hoped he knew she treasured him. She was sorry, and she understood why he had been angry. She would be more conscious of the effect such actions could have on him in the future, or at least, she would try her utmost to do so.

The scent of burning toast smoked through the kitchen, interrupting, changing the subject.

"Julia, not again," he had teased, pulling her into a charming embrace.

"I guess I owe you yet another apology," she played back, "I'll have to make it up to you later."

"I look forward to it," he smiled a big smile, _looking so gorgeous it flipped her womb and spun the room for a moment_.

All completely mended, Julia cleaned up and William went upstairs to change.

" _Mmm-mmm-mmm_ ," Julia had thought when first seeing her good-looking husband in his hunky baseball suit. "I knew there was a good reason to have this event," she had flirted. They were happy. Little baby boy in tow, the Murdoch's headed out for the big occasion, the Policeman/Firemen Charity Baseball Game would soon be afoot.

) (

It was _not_ a close game. The firemen were cleaning up, ahead of the policemen by 5 runs at the bottom of the eighth inning. George was pitching, and fortunately he had finally struck the third man out, leaving another three firemen scoreless on the bases. The teams would be changing sides. Julia had been up in the bleachers with the other spectators, and although William Jr. had slept for a little while, he had awakened now and he was growing restless and fussy. The toddler had started teething and she thought a distraction might work. She decided to take him down and put him in the pram, to enjoy the view closer to the playing field for a while.

William stopped by the fence line to quickly to say hello. As he jogged away to join the rest of the team behind the other foul line on the Stationhouse 4 bench, she commented musingly to her little son, "Daddy's being a good sport about losing so miserably. You sure have a good Daddy, hmm?" She rocked and jiggled her son for a few seconds before tucking him back into the pram, where the toddler impressed her, cheerfully sitting himself up, seeming to suck in all the sights and sounds and smells around him.

A voice, from a woman who had come to stand next to her, spoke. She recognized it, recognized the woman, _couldn't quite place her…_

"William Murdoch is nothing if not a good man," the woman said, her pretty blue eyes following William as he reached the bench and took off his glove.

" _Mrs. Jones_ ," Julia's voice yelled the answer to the puzzle in her head, " _Enid… Enid Jones_." She was the woman William had courted after their devastating breakup, after Julia had told him about her having had an abortion. The woman, too, had a baby with her. Julia stuttered, finally getting the words out, just as the other woman started to explain who she was. "Enid Jones," Julia hurried to say, reaching to greet the woman, "Of course I remember."

Enid turned to gaze at William and Julia's baby in the pram. "He's the spitting image of William. You two must be very happy," she said.

"He's delightful," Julia answered, unconsciously bouncing up momentarily on her toes with pride. "I'm just grateful he got William's eyes," she added, suddenly feeling she might be gloating.

But she saw it in the woman's eyes, Enid Jones was gracious and kind-hearted. She was authentically pleased to see that William had done well.

Enid blushed slightly, _endearingly_ , Julia thought. "I must confess, I've read about the two of you in the papers," she divulged. "I had expected you would be here… you being on the committee running the Charity Game… William playing for Stationhouse 4…" she added.

Suddenly realizing she and William had been the center of the conversation, Julia asked, "And you, Enid. You have a delightfully beautiful little…" She paused trying to be certain of the other baby's gender. It was so challenging since both sexes tended to be dressed in white dresses.

"Girl," Enid said. "Dr. Julia Ogden, meet Alice Hughes," the proud mother introduced them.

"She is lovely," Julia gushed, "How old is she?"

"She's just turned two," Enid replied as she moved her own pram next to William Jr.'s and sat her little toddler down in it. The two children seemed enthralled with each other.

"Oh, perhaps they'll be good friends," Enid offered. She went on to tell Julia that her name was now Mrs. Enid Hughes. Then Enid pointed out her husband, a very attractive man on the firemen's team, a man who had stood out earlier to Julia earlier, his manly physique catching her notice.

"He's quite a handsome young buck, isn't he?" Julia uttered, _immediately regretting her choice of words, knowing they drew attention to what was a_ **blatantly large age discrepancy** _between Enid and her relatively new husband. She would cover her tracks, highlight the "handsome" part of what she had just said._ She swallowed back the pounding dread and pushed, "I had found myself rather intrigued by his athletic… prowess earlier," she chose to say, suddenly somehow hoping to appear to admire the young man's good baseball skills more so than his physical attractiveness.

"I guess we have similar tastes in men," Enid replied with a warm and telling smile, easing the tension, or at least deflecting it away from the unconventional age difference between herself and her young twenty-something husband. Both sets of blue eyes returned to William.

"Yes," Julia answered her, "Yes, I guess we do." Now it appeared to be her turn to blush.

Julia wondered if William had been attracted to Enid for the same reasons that this other man had probably had, her psychiatrist mind thinking that the man, being so young, subconsciously sought to find a mother figure. She remembered having been a bit sickened by the way Enid had coddled William back when he was courting her. The thread of the thought tingled and tempted as it dangled there… _William had been rebounding back then, after being so badly stung by their own, rather adult, mature relationship. Maybe he had been more comfortable with a parent-child model, Enid mothering him with her smothering, him fathering her by being protective. And Enid and William hadn't had the class differences that she and William had had to contend with either. And of course, William wouldn't have even fully known the importance of it at the time, but Enid Jones could have given him a child._

Enid's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. The woman tilted closer to Julia, wondering, "Does he still start his romantic interludes by touching a wisp of your hair?"

Julia nodded, agreeing enthusiastically, excited by the game of comparing notes on William's habits.

Enid went on, obviously herself enjoying the guilty pleasure, "The first time he did it… well to be honest, any time he did it, it shot straight to my heart. So subtle…"

Julia felt the flickering of her inner flame, _her mind teasing herself that, in her case, it was not exactly the heart that received the spark._ Her voice had a wistful tone to it as she recognized, as she expounded, "Yes, indirect but unmistakable, like it can be… like it is, a secret between you."

)

Over on the bench, the Inspector and George had noticed that the detective kept glancing nervously off to the sidelines, and George had spotted Enid Jones standing next to Dr. Ogden. He nudged the Inspector, both men sharing a knowing look, and then turning to Murdoch.

"What?" William questioned defensively.

The Inspector shook his head. "This is not good, me old mucker," he warned.

"Definitely not good," Crabtree joined.

"They'll be comparing notes on you," the Inspector clarified the danger.

All three of the men peered back at the two colluding women.

"Not good," William mumbled to himself, his voice ghostly and far-off. He sighed and then tipped his baseball cap to the two women. Another big sigh, and he coached himself to focus on the game. George was third in the lineup, and he was after George. This was the top of the ninth inning. It was possible he would get up to bat, under the discerning eyes of the two huddled and giggling women. " _Focus William_ ," he told himself.

)

Such a thrill as Julia hung on the woman's every word, Enid engaged in the telling of the first time William had touched her hair. "Alwyn was safe, thank God," she went on, "And I had invited William to dinner. I was out in the front yard finishing some gardening… I didn't even notice it, but I had gotten a rose petal in my hair. He reached up and removed it for me, so deliberately, but slow and… tender… that's how I knew he was interested."

)

The crack of a baseball bat filled the air! Over the fence! Gone! Stationhouse 4 had hit a home run! From the bottom of their lineup, no less!

The score still dismal for the policeman, being down by 4 runs in the ninth inning, the celebratory mood settled quickly.

)

The women's conversation drifted to William's more annoying tendencies. Humorously…

 _Julia noting to herself that William seemed to also be attracted to women with a sense of humor – and suddenly she found she regretted less all of those bad jokes she had told trying to get William to laugh before they had even started courting._

…Enid took up a complaint. "Or, how about the way you could be sitting together talking, and all of a sudden either you or he, or a waiter or someone, says something or does something, and it gives him an idea about a case…"

Julia interrupted and said in William's defense, knowing where Enid was going with her tale, "I must admit, I do that sometimes too – have one thing or another that comes out of the blue suddenly help me solve a piece of the puzzle that has been driving me crazy. I think it's one of the reasons William and I enjoy each other so much."

Enid replied, "Oh, but I'd wager you don't just get up and go, without saying anything," her point bringing a knowing smile to Julia's face. Enid leaned even closer, her face, her tone, filled with glee, "I remember one time, a waiter served us some piping hot tea, and he was nearly mesmerized by the steam, and then he was just gone – poof…"

Nodding, surprised by the similarities, Julia added, "Once, I was doing this… complicated experiment, and I just flipped over a sand-filled hourglass… He had been asking me for my help with applied physics of all things…" Julia felt a sting in her chest, the emotion triggered by associating the memory to the time back then, remembering that she had been trying to ignore him, that she had felt so completely wounded at the time. Her psychiatrist-self threw up an " _aha_ ," for she had remembered the specific timing from whence this memory came in their long and tumultuous love-life – William had started seeing Enid. She swallowed, sinking the old pain, and finished her statement, "I turned to explain to him that I was too distracted to really help him, and he had already just left. I never even heard the door."

)

The policemen's chances were improving, with their first batter up, the very bottom of their lineup, surprising everyone and hitting a homerun. Now only 4 runs behind, Jackson had stepped up into the batter's box. Stationhouse 4 was at the top of their lineup! Brackenreid would be hitting cleanup, if they could stay alive long enough to get him there. Somehow, things felt as if they had shifted. There was a ray of hope, an opportunity to turn this around.

Whack! Jackson got a base hit.

George walked up to the plate and took his batter's stance with no outs at the top of the ninth. Still, the policemen were down by 4 runs…

William was up next. He called his teammates into a huddle, his heart thundering in his chest. "I re-read the rules extensively yesterday. I propose we make a plan to steal bases…" The huddle tightened, intrigued by his idea. "The rules say a baserunner can take-off from a lead from the base, but only once the pitcher has started his windup. Just remember that if our batter hits a fly ball, and it's caught, you must get back to the original base and tag-up before you can run to the next base," he explained to abundant nods from the men. He continued, "It's easiest to steal second…"

Brackenreid drew their attention, figuring, "Because the catcher's view is blocked by the pitcher, and second base is the furthest throw. Well lads, we've got nothing to lose. It's too bad Jackson doesn't know the plan." All eyes turned to see Jackson who had taken only a minimal lead off of first base.

"George doesn't know about it either," Higgins worried, glancing over to George up at bat.

The Inspector gave Murdoch a slap on the back. "I guess it will be up to you then slugger," he fanned William's internal turmoil.

)

Moving on to a new topic, Julia queried, "Did you ever notice what William does when he's stressed or under pressure, like when you're asking him about something he wants to avoid?"

"He stalls," Enid replied, giggling.

Julia felt her own laugh deepen now, down to her belly. Nodding profusely, she added, "Yes. Yes, that he does…" and then she elaborated, imitating William's gesture with her hand, "And he rubs his forehead," prompting them both to fall from giggling into full-fledged laughter.

Abruptly becoming self-consciously aware that they were in public, Julia and Enid quickly checked their surroundings, their blue eyes jumping to check on William. _Oh, he had noticed they were talking about him alright._ They both saw his eyes jump away. Then, _heavenly_ , he did it… With a sigh, **William reached up and rubbed his forehead**. Explosively, the two women burst out laughing.

)

A loud crack, George swung big, sending the ball just over the shortstop's glove. However, all the cheering in the world couldn't get Jackson to second base before the throw. One out and a man on first, William took a firm hold on his bat and walked up to the plate.

)

Julia placed her hand on her heart and she turned to glance at Enid. Her eyebrows lifted to exaggerate her expression. "I'm so nervous my heart is racing," she declared.

)

William stood at the plate. A big inhale followed by a huge exhale through pursed lips – blowing away the tremendous pressure. " _Eye on the ball_ ," his own voice coached himself as he took his stance.

He swung at the first pitch that came and got a piece of the ball! It was a groundball, right up the third baseline. The shortstop threw to second, forcing George out. But William was on base now… and he had a plan. With two outs in the ninth inning, they really had nothing to lose. He took a humungous lead off of first base as the Inspector stepped up to the plate. Brackenreid's reputation spurred calls from the firemen all over the field to move back. The pitcher started his windup and William took off like a rocket. William Murdoch was fast, _probably all that cycling_. He was on second base before the umpire's call came – Strike one!

"Watch the runner!" the catcher called out as he threw the ball back to the pitcher.

William took a deep breath and stayed solidly on his newly claimed base, consciously pretending he wouldn't dare try to steal third. It seemed the pitcher was convinced. He turned his eyes back to the batter. Stealthy, William took a lead off from the base. The pitcher pulled his arm back…

William shot off!

"Strike two!" rang out from the umpire.

The catcher rushed his throw to the third baseman to try to stop the theft.

William was safe! He'd stolen third base too!

)

"My!" Julia exclaimed, still clutching at her pounding heart.

)

The pitcher tried to slow things down now, confident the man wouldn't be stupid enough to try to steal home.

Now it was the Inspector's time to shine. He knew he had to swing at whatever pitch came with only one strike left in the count.

Whack! A grounder up the third baseline.

William scored!

Brackenreid was held at first base.

Stationhouse 4 was alive!

"Only three more!" George hollered to the detective as he jogged triumphantly to the bench.

)

Julia bubbled on the sidelines, jumping and clapping. "Go William!" she screamed out.

Unnoticed, a reporter had heard her cheer and recognized her as Dr. Ogden. Madge Merton the upper-class gossip reporter would certainly want to get in on this news. He moved closer to the two women with the baby strollers.

)

William nodded to Inspector and Brackenreid took a bigger lead off of the base. Now wary, the pitcher threw the ball to the first basemen to force Brackenreid back to the plate. The ball went back to the pitcher, and Brackenreid boldly took a big lead again, and the pitcher immediately checked him, throwing back to the base once more. Undeterred, the Inspector took a big lead again, seemingly goading the pitcher.

On the pitching mound, the pitcher struggled with his alarm. " _Just pitch the ball, Nigel_ ," he instructed himself. His eyes focused to the strike zone above home plate. His balance shifted and he drew back in his windup. The flash from the corner of his eye distracting his release…

Brackenreid was already dashing for second base before the umpire had even called out his judgement, "Ball one."

The Inspector had successfully stolen second base! And Higgins was ahead in the count, 1-0.

William leaned over to George. "The pitcher's getting flustered," he said.

)

"Go Thomas!" Margaret cheered loudly.

)

Thomas Brackenreid didn't have the speed of Murdoch. It was more for the mind-game that he did it – he took a big lead off of second base.

Fury steamed in the pitcher's brain! He checked the brash, brazen, IRRITATING runner. After a few more back and forth tosses to second base, the pitcher finally threw a pitch. Brackenreid didn't try to steal… Another ball, now the pitcher was down two in the count (2-0) with the batter. A deep breath, a little calmer, he threw another pitch. " _Damnit!_ " he cursed himself under his breath. Ball three.

If Higgins were smart, he would have refused to swing at the next pitch, for he was way ahead in the count, now 3-0, but Higgins wasn't the smartest bat in the bat rack. And the pitch looked weak…

Smack! A base hit! Brackenreid scored!

"Only two more!" George screamed out the result as Constable Blake picked up his bat.

Higgins was pretty fast, so he was daring. After playing cat and mouse with the pitcher a few times, the pitcher finally took his pitch and Higgins stole second.

The crowd was on its feet. This game was getting good!

Drama ensued as Higgins tried and failed to steal third. Up at bat, Blake, too, got ahead in the count, the pitcher seeming only capable of throwing balls under all this pressure.

The Inspector confided to William, "The pitcher's rattled, me old mucker. He hasn't thrown a decent pitch since you stole third."

Constable Kennelly was up at bat after Blake. Word of the pitcher's mental collapsing spread down the bench to him.

The pitches becoming an easy target, Blake hit another single, moving Higgins to third.

George decreed the possibility to the crowd, "The winning run is at the plate!"

In only a matter of seconds, Blake stole second!

)

Julia thrilled to Enid, "They might win it! There's a man at second and third!"

The excitement of it all had gotten to everyone, including Enid Hughes. Still, she offered a reality check. "Yes, but they already have two outs, don't forget," she cautioned.

)

Kennelly surprised with a bunt. It dropped and stopped dead just in front of home plate. Home plate blocked, Higgins couldn't score! Kennelly barreled for first base, sliding to safety before the throw.

The bases were now loaded!

The firemen defensively sent calls out to each other, coaching themselves loudly, "Force play at any plate!"

)

"What does that mean?" Julia asked Enid.

"It means they can throw the ball to any man at any base to get the final out," she explained.

)

William paused Constable Jenkins before he stepped up to his place to bat. "Mix it up a bit, maybe pretend you're going to bunt, but don't swing, just act like you're considering swinging at each pitch. He'll throw balls instead of strikes. Let him walk you," he instructed.

IT WORKED! The pitcher threw four balls in a row and Jenkins walked! Higgins scored on a walk! The policemen were only behind by one run!

Unfortunately, it ended there, or fortunately for the pitcher, the final batter hit a grounder once the final count had gotten full at 3-2, forcing an out at third base and the game was over.

It seemed like it was the first time anyone at the Policemen/Firemen Charity Baseball Game had truly breathed… in forever.

)

Fredrick Hughes headed over to the two women soon after sharing congratulations with his teammates. He was a friendly man, quickly thanking Julia for her part in organizing the event. Not long afterwards, William walked up to join them.

Fredrick immediately recognized him as the instigator of all the base stealing, teasing him, "You're surprisingly fast for… for a man your age."

Bashfully, William dropped his chin looking away. _Better to take on the insult than the compliment_ he decided, returning, "I guess that's why it worked."

The group shared in a congenial laugh.

"It certainly was unconventional," Fredrick accorded.

Julia grabbed William's arm and locked hers under it with a squeeze, cheering, "Unconventional and thrilling, William."

However, Julia couldn't resist the urge to get in a joke, adding, "Though, it is ironic that it was the _policemen_ who tried to _steal_ the game."

A blend of moans and nods and chuckles from the group followed.

"Good one, Julia," William offered, "Because it's a _crime_ to steal, and we, members of the Constabulary who are meant to fight crime, _stole_ a lot of bases."

Julia sighed, disappointed that William's explanation revealed what he really thought of the joke. _At least I tried._

Fredrick asked how the Murdoch's were acquainted with Enid and they told him that they had met when William was working on her son, Alwyn's, abduction case. Enid had told Fredrick about that dreadful story in detail, and he thanked William, and then Julia too, for finding and saving his stepson. He was very proud of the young man. Alwyn was sixteen now, and he had a job – it turned out that he worked at the same factory where he had found the automaton back during that case.

The other members of Fredrick's team waved him their goodbyes as they headed out.

Taking in the sight of the opposing team all together, William noted, _his mind appearing to be stuck on Fredrick's thinking of him as being_ _**old,**_ "It does seem to be true that the firemen's team consists of men who are rather young."

Fredrick explained, "There was a wave of hiring right after the big fire about two years ago…"

 _Oh, William remembered it. He had run into the flames of the Toronto Fire of 1904 to save Julia's life._

Continuing, Fredrick added, "And the physical requirements are extremely demanding."

Too quickly, the two females nodded. Julia's eyes actually strayed down the man's body. It became momentarily uncomfortable, as the two men stared at the women and they looked to each other and giggled. Julia lifted her eyebrows wide at Enid.

Startling them all to turn, a call came from behind them…

"Detective Murdoch! Dr. Ogden!" and then the sight of the camera shooting their picture.

"Players from opposing teams being friendly after such a close game," the photographer said as he approached them, "Couldn't miss out on that." He held out his hand for the detective. "David McArthur of the Toronto Daily Star," he introduced himself.

Julia gave William a knowing look. "Oh, yes. Madge Merton's newspaper," she said.

The reporter greeted all of the group, expertly recording in his memory the names of the unfamiliar couple, _Fredrick and Enid Hughes_. He then said, "I overheard your joke earlier, doctor. I think I'll use it for the headline."

Julia held her hands wide and quoted with her fingers in the air, "Police Nearly Steal Game," giving herself a rewarding giggle.

"Close," the reporter replied, "Maybe," he glided his hand with his words, "Police, Culprits of Theft – Almost Steal Game from Firemen!"

"Sounds good," Fredrick complimented, receiving agreement from the rest.

After the reporter took his leave, talk turned to the two children – who were getting along beautifully.

"They appear to be taking turns staring at each other," William said, the sound of his voice lifting his son's big brown eyes up to meet his.

"Dada," the little one said, his arms reaching for him. William obliged him, picking the toddler up.

Enid pulled out a bag with a thermos and a pair of sandwiches from under their pram. "My big man must be starving after all that exertion," she said handing the thermos of juice to Fredrick.

 _Julia thought to herself that it was unsettling the way Enid spoke to her husband using baby-talk._

"That, and thirsty," Fredrick answered her, removing the lid and gulping down the cool juice.

"It's peanut butter and jelly," Enid said as she offered him the sandwich.

 _Julia barely had a chance to raise a seductive eyebrow at William, sharing in the secret meaning of that particularly gourmet delicacy when…_

Enid turned to Julia and explained, "He gets so hungry. I swear, when he's active like this he could eat three lunches. Both of these are for him." She tore a bite-sized piece off of the remaining sandwich and handed it down to Alice in the pram. "Did you bring any lunch?" she asked.

 _Her words hit Julia like a stab in the gut._ _Panic of inferiority rang in her head, once again failing to meet society's definition of a good woman, a good wife, a good mother, her brain stalled…_

"Uh…" the only sound that came.

William cleared his throat, drawing their eyes to him. "We, um, we ate a very late breakfast," he said.

 _Whew_ , Julia felt the lifting of the pain. Still reeling a bit, she said, "I was thinking we might stop for ice cream…"

Enid gasped, appalled, "Ice cream… for lunch!"

"Yes," Julia responded, trying to hide being self-conscious about it, "Or maybe not." She looked to William.

"Well, it's not every day that one nearly steals a ballgame. A little celebration seems in order," William suggested. He wrapped his other arm around his wife and smiled. _Relief flushed through her. The man was brilliant, really brilliant. My God, she loved this man._ William stepped back and then reached up to take a ringlet of her hair in his fingers and tuck the curl behind her ear, and her eyes got stuck in his beautiful brown eyes a little too long, before she turned to see if Enid had noticed the hair thing, and then the uncomfortableness set in, and she stepped back.

She spoke with an air of authority. "And we're far from through. William still needs to do some lumberjacking…" She paused. "You did know William was a lumberjack… before he joined the Constabulary," she asked Enid.

"No. That's amazing," Enid replied.

"A man of many talents," Fredrick said, his mouth sticky with peanut butter and jelly.

"That he is," Julia responded giving him an enticing look. "And I'm afraid I have to take care of things here for the charity," she said, signaling that it was time to go. After planning to get together sometime, the families went their separate ways.

) (

Later at home, after their fun-filled, unconventional, and satisfying ice-cream lunch, and after William Jr. had had a nap, and William had worked out with his weights, and Julia had gotten some lesson planning done for her college course, and then they had had supper, William offered to play with the baby while Julia pampered herself a little. He suggested she have a bath. " _Take advantage of those rather lovely scented bath oils that George and his aunties find so enticing,_ " he had said. It had been a great idea. Now, petal-soft, cool, and clean, and fresh, she headed out into the backyard to find her husband and her son.

Feigning annoyance at the sight of them, she scolded, "William Henry Murdoch, it's one thing for you to come home from a baseball game covered in dirt, but honestly… look at this baby!" _One would have been pressed to say which one of the two Williams was filthier._ "How did you find this much dirt?!" she continued her rant, lifting the child from him down on the grass, and then extending the dirt-covered child out away from her newly-cleaned body. "My goodness, you both need a bath," she said, heading back up to the bathroom, "You too mister," she threatened back at her husband as she left.

The amount of fun that baby had sharing a bath with his father was astounding. Julia had listened in, and watched, lovingly, from the doorway, and in all her days, she didn't remember ever feeling happier. There was giggling, and screaming and squealing with glee, and splashing, and strange William noises, and the sight of the two of them together… it just took her breath away.

Finally, she stepped into the bathroom and declared, "O.K. now, I think by now you two will have wrinkled into prunes." She helped make sure William Jr.'s hair was rinsed and she took the baby over to the counter by the sink to dry him. In the mirror, she noticed her husband rinse his hair too and then step out of the bath, dripping wet. The image in the mirror was foggy, but it was still magnetizing. _William Murdoch was a remarkably good-looking man._

Julia picked up the baby wrapped in his towel and propped him on her hip, then turned to offer William a towel. She would not pretend not to look, not pretend not to revel in, and not to cherish in, and not to treasure in, and thrill in, looking at his naked body. Her eyes wholeheartedly, unabashedly, perused.

Accepting his fate, and truly loving having her look at him _**like that**_ , William raised the towel up to his head and worked to rub his hair dry. He remarked to himself that _every moment with those weights, every grunt, every muscle-screaming, agonous, torturous, moment, was worth it._

" _Mm, he looked good_ ," Julia thought, " _Very, very good_." His rippled stomach – _magnificent_ , his flesh lured her eyes. _Oh, she wanted to touch_. She gave him a seductive glance, before she stepped closer. Her body hummed with noticing he seemed to be momentarily stunned, locked in his glorious pose, caught by her lustful desires. Her voice was raspy with yearning as she said, her fingers floating just above those delicious muscles, flat and firm, tingling him, "It seems you have had more time to work out this summer."

And then the touch slipped onto him, and he couldn't help himself, the breath surged out of him. _My God he wanted her._

Julia stepped even closer, and for just a moment, William was aware that the baby was still on her hip, and then he felt her breath on him, and even closer, and he dropped his hands down to his sides, somehow managing to still hold on to the towel, because some part of him thought he should cover up – before it was too late. But… _Oh, he felt it_ , it was already too late, and his body reached for her, grew for her, leaned, and stretched, and strained for her. Her lips, so softly, glanced over the sensitive tissue of his ear with a flutter and she said, her fingers, dangerous, slipping lower, and lower, and lower, "You can put this on me anytime, detective."

Julia's insides giggled and vibrated and quivered with delight as she felt him grow under her thigh, to make contact with her, and with the touch came this beautiful, tiny, _sound_ , not quite a moan, not quite a whimper or a cry, a catching and a falling sound, that slipped out of his mouth and flooded down into her womb. Closer, he felt her supple body under her clothes, melt and mold to his, and her breath flowed, and thundered in his ear, and he felt the slippery warmth of her tongue touch him, screaming the tender flesh of his ear, and she said almost silently, rumbling him into soupy dizziness, "I want you in my mouth," as her hand slipped down even lower.

And his world flipped over, but he caught himself somehow with a monumental and tiny twitch, and he leaned back against the spinning gravity, and his voice whispered it to her, "The baby… Julia," out of breath and weak, "Don't make this any harder than it already is."

And he felt her mischievous smile on his skin, and Julia stepped back from him, seemingly totally in control. She looked him in the eye, her eyes alluring, open, drawing, _so blue, so beautiful_ , and just before she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, she teased, so mercilessly, "Oh, but I do so enjoy making it harder for you, William."

Trying to recover, William swallowed and rushed to argue against her double-entendre, "You know that's not what I meant." His glance changed to the mirror, for she had turned away. Her devilish smile, in the cloudy fog, left him helpless.

Speaking to William Jr., giving the baby a little bounce, Julia teased him even more, "Mommy almost stole third base."

 _Oh, he felt the sting!_ His breath froze him there. His glance found himself in the mirror, his own look of shock astounding him. Quickly he worked to tie the towel around his waist. He'd chase after her. She had walked out of the bathroom. He was alone in there. William called, stuttered, out of bathroom after her. "No… No Julia. Women can't steal bases. They're bodies are the field."

She tipped her head back into doorway, "William, don't be ridiculous. What of men's bodies?"

His eyes looked so pleading.

The idea came to him – and it was out of his mouth before he could assess it. "Men are up at bat. Their bodies can't be the field."

Julia stepped back into the steamy room. "Really," _Julia's confident tone worried him_ , "So only men can score?" she asked facetiously. "So, you're saying a woman can't get to first base, or second base, or third base, with a man's body…"

 _Oh, he would probably never live down what he did next. It was unbelievable. What was he thinking!?_

William dropped the towel and grabbed a hold of… himself. He gave it a little, stiff, swing. "The man's body is the bat," he said.

And Julia absolutely fell apart. Truly, she struggled not to drop the baby she laughed so hard. _**Who would ever believe William Murdoch would do that!**_ It was amazing. It would take days for the smile on her face to go away, she was sure of it.

"Oh, William," she finally was able to say, tears in her eyes from laughing.

Contagious, William gave into it, letting go of any pride he could possibly find, and he gave into it and joined in laughing at himself… really, it was joining in in laughing with her, and it was priceless.

 _Whew_ , he took a breath and tried to recover, left to finish drying himself, Julia was getting William Jr. ready for bed. The sides of his mouth were stiff from smiling and laughing so much. He pursed, and kissed and stretched them. William's head shaking, it was still so hard to believe. " _Steal third base_ ," he thought to himself, " _she said she almost stole third base."_ Of course, Julia could be quite aggressive sexually… A smile took his face. He looked himself in the foggy mirror. The smile grew and he shook his head more assertively. _She was amazing. "You got yourself one spicy wife there Mr. Murdoch, one spicy wife indeed," he congratulated. And he knew in every inch of his body that he cherished her with every ounce he had._

)

Not surprisingly, William and Julia made wild and passionate love that night, Ishinpōing each other tortuously, breathlessly, lusciously, delightfully, ultimately into euphoric bliss. First, she brought him to his very edges – as she had promised him with her seduction earlier, with her mouth on him, around him, over him, then she devilishly stopped… and then, so scrumptiously, so tempting, she rolled over, surrendering herself to him, anticipating he couldn't bare his raging desire one more second and that he would take her, but… instead of covering her, of mounting and pushing into her and driving her, them, to oblivion, he Ishinpōed her, _My God, he Ishinpōed her so, so deliciously_. From, her head to her toes, long, and hungry and hard, he kneaded, and molded, and sucked, and nipped her body, deeply, succulently, her every inch. His teasing masterful, he sauntered dangerously close without touching around her most sensitive spot, her most desperate spot, _saving the best for last_ , he had whispered. But when he finally put his mouth on her, rocked her higher, and higher, and higher, so close to the precipice he dangled her, as she clutched at the bed sheets and hung on with everything she had fighting the fall – waiting for him to fully cover her, for him to fill her, for him to be one with her, calling for him, begging for him, tears flowing down her face with the effort, the exertion, of withstanding her need for him, for all of him… so close, she pleaded for him to take her. So sweet, the touch as the earth lifted up from under them, and the roll of the tidal wave lingered, so high, so tremendous, the fall would be soaring, and then it hit them with a thundering rush, and he dissolved into her, and she yielded completely and they melded together, the humid, hot steam of their chemistry exploding out as urgent, fulfilled moans, they blended, and melted, and pooled, soupy and soft. Afterwards, their motion stilled, but their hearts thumping and racing and pounding with the exertion, out of breath, exquisitely loose, and bonded together, Julia kissed and sucked and tasted and smelled him as far into her body as she possibly could, wanting all of him, wanting more of him, wanting all of him deeper and completely, from her edges to her core. Not ready to let go, maybe never ready to let go, of him.

"It felt like you just loved me down to the marrow in my bones, William Murdoch," she whispered.

His warm breath bathed her with his gentle, weak, breathless chuckle. "I think I did," his voice dry, she heard him swallow, felt him swallow on top of her. He poked his face down closer into her neck and kissed and tasted her as well. His mouth wide and slow, he sucked in the taste of the salt and tangy sweetness of her skin on the back of his tongue. "But even deeper than that, I love you even deeper than the marrow in your bones, Julia Ogden," he confided, he pledged, he vowed.

"I know you do," she promised him.

In the afterglow, after she had let him go, he had rolled off of her and they lie together, naked, satiated, content. Neither of them was ready for sleep, and the chance encounter of earlier in the day came to mind. Having had run into Enid Jones had stirred up thoughts of what their lives could have been. If William had stayed with Enid, he would likely have married her. After all, William was the marrying kind. He had been engaged to Liza. He would have had the family he had always wanted. As for Julia, she would probably have ended up going to Buffalo, unable to survive the pain of being around William, once he was married to another, and happy.

William wondered if she would have had Darcy's baby then. "That would have been ironic," he said, his expression showing it would have hurt him.

Seductively and pointedly, Julia rubbed her leg up over him as she confided, "I don't think so William." She stretched up from her favorite place nestling her head on his chest and whispered, "I think it is the quantity and quality of _OUR_ lovemaking, William, that overcame the odds of my ever getting pregnant. I don't think it's something that could have happened with any other man." She laid her head back down on his chest and concluded, "No, I was meant to have _your_ baby, William, only yours."

She felt his body tighten underneath her. "Hey, how about our journals? We haven't shared them for a while," he explained his thoughts. They sat up and William pulled the two journals out of his side-table drawer.

As always happened to him whenever they did this, William felt a bit of dread gurgling up within his body. It always felt like he was taking a risk. _It could be outright scary_. He wondered if Julia felt this way, studying her face as she leafed through the pages of her own, flower-covered journal. Almost undetectably, he frowned. _It didn't look like it._ He went back to looking for any times he had written entries from back while he was courting Enid. He was certain there had a been a lot of entries from then, but he already suspected, they would all really be about Julia. Everything had always been about Julia with him – everything. _Wasn't that what he had learned from being with Enid anyway?_

Julia placed her journal, opened to the right page and upside down, on her pillow, and tucked herself down into position on top of him for him to read his journal to her. _She absolutely loved when they did this, with every fiber of her being, she loved it – so intimate, so perfect, William's voice as he revealed the inner recesses of himself to her, trusting her so profoundly with the treasure._

 _ **Perhaps it's because I'm injured, wounded, that I feel more vulnerable. I think it made me weak, this unfamiliar helplessness. Enid is truly lovely. She filled some void… something I needed. With such nurturance and care. I know it but am embarrassed to say it, she "**_ **mothered** _ **" me today, and it felt good. Julia's care was abounded as well, and believe me, I'm grateful for it. It was interesting having the two of them in here, in my bedroom, together, at the same time, it seems only logical that my mind would throw up comparisons. It was painfully obvious to me that my heart beat faster, for Julia. Deeply, a part of me feels so guilty about that, like I'm lying to Enid. She actually fed me, Enid, like a little baby in a high chair. Conflicting, how I feel about that. Perhaps I feel starved for such things from a woman because my mother died when I was so young…**_

 _ **Yet, it won't let go of me – my knowing. Enid, a beautiful, warm, caring woman as wonderful as Enid, still will never stir me, drive me, move me to be a better man the way SHE does. Her beauty, stunning, as she clamped her lips, told me she knew I could bear the pain. Julia Ogden makes me stronger, more than what I am.**_

 _ **I dreamed it, yes, I remember it now, the dream. We were together, in his bed. And I had fallen asleep. I was in these pajamas – she was in her nightgown, like this was normal, an everyday thing. Like we were married! She reached over, her fingers, her hand covering my shoulder, the sensation so marvelous the way it rippled through me, she pulled me, rolled me over to face her, and her hair was down! So breathtaking, her beauty, like a secret just for me, like when she found me up in the Rouge Valley, gazing up at the stars. I told her. I told her in the dream, the truth, the truth that I think I have been hiding from myself, that I want to be like**_ **THAT** _ **with her always. In the dream, I wondered why we couldn't be. And she told me, her wisdom pounding me so deeply, the hurt so unbearable, that it was because we wanted different things. I screamed it to myself in the dream – YOU WANT HER! YOU WANT HER! But I watched myself as I didn't hear my truth, I yielded despite the warning from my heart, and she told me that I would never love another like I loved her – and the pain, the longing, seized me, paralyzed me, for it was like it was already finished, like it was done, and all that was left was the pain. And she offered some healing to the wounds, telling me that although I would never love anyone the same way that I loved her, I would love again, I just had to let myself fall. And I knew I had to let go of her. And then there was Enid, and Alwyn… There's no other way to describe how I've felt since that dream. Troubled comes closest, deeply and profoundly troubled.**_

After William closed his journal, he said, "I remember that you used the exact same word in the letter you left for George to give me once I got out of jail, before you married Darcy…"

"Troubled," she nodded, "Yes, yes, I did."

The subsequent quiet between them was heavy, and shared, knowing that they both thought the same thing, that the suffering had been so similar. Words weren't really needed. Julia turned to her journal. She adored the way she could feel him looking down at her words as she read, the journal resting out in front of her on his chest.

 _ **He had someplace else he had to be – took the wonderful children's book about the steel man with him, put on his beautiful hat, and I knew, I knew he was going to her, he was going to Enid Jones. Wham, the pain of it hurt me so unbelievably badly. The Inspector's eyes, compassionate, he saw my pain, they caught me, stopping the total plummet. I'm sure he noticed the welling-up of tears in my eyes, for I felt the stinging blurriness, but kindly he didn't say anything. Perfect, he offered some of his scotch, pinching his fingers close together to suggest just a little bit of scotch, and I felt my eyes, too slowly, stuck floating on is fingers, there, up in the air.**_

 _ **He told me she had baked William a pie, said it had been rhubarb, said it was of the highest homemade quality, said it was delicious. It blared at me, loudly, scolding – I had never baked anything for William. The Inspector said it then, quoted the common saying that**_ **the way to a man's heart was through his stomach,** _ **told me that some women think that…**_ **Enid Jones must think that.** _ **My God, I love the Inspector though, so colorful the way he added his own opinion, telling me that he thought it was through a different organ entirely – clearly, he meant the groin, and I knew he meant sexually, and I felt a strange pang, for I know deeply that I had touched William there, that I had touched him that way.**_

 _ **Titillating, the way the Inspector admitted that that was how it had been between himself and Margaret. Amazing, the Inspector's perception, for he saw the same thing I saw. He said that, "with Murdoch," he figured it would be the "man's brain," or a "strange combination of the two organs" – meaning William's brain and his groin. I surely agree. Then the Inspector said that such attraction would explain why the two of us – why William and I – were so strongly drawn to each other, and I felt it in my bones that he was right…**_

 _ **My mind replayed it then, the beautiful memory from back after I had commented on a victim's manly, muscly, arms. I had just glanced at William's face when he asked it, but the pull of his gorgeous eyes will be with me forever, so open, so big, brown and sparkly and warm and deeply, deeply curious. He questioned my claim that women would be attracted to an "intelligent thug," he had called it. My world, my heart fluttered for a moment. The beauty of that memory so strong it lifted me momentarily out of my pain. It even tickled, the urge to giggle.**_

 _ **But, the fall from the beauty of the memory came. And I saw, I saw that the Inspector saw it, that the Inspector knew it – I had been profoundly and deeply hurt… it made me feel better and it made me feel much, much worse, like when you cover a wound with a salve, and the medicine sears the pain brighter and hotter, but you know it's helping, and just under that pain, there is a soothing too. Crying feels like that sometimes. And I just know it, with this, there will be a lot of crying. But, you'll heal. They say time heals. It's better that he be with someone else, with someone who can give him the family he wants, he deserves. Oh, but it hurts, letting myself imagine it – William at the altar, next to Enid Jones. Unavoidable, these tears. Imagine it when they have a child…**_

With a deep breath, she closed her journal. "It stops there," she said.

"Mm," he replied. She had cried with the reliving of it, and his heart ached for her. Tenderly, he took her journal from her and placed it with his on his night table.

"The Inspector has been so important to both of us," William said, his voice warm. He reached up and glided a finger over a slippery, glistening tear on her cheek.

She nodded, and sniffled. "He really has been," she agreed. "I'm glad he walked me down the aisle to you William," she said.

"As am I," he replied. He clicked off his lamp, and cuddled her back down onto his chest in the dark.

It was quiet, for a time, each of them following their thoughts.

The tone of her voice teased, after a time. "Which organ were you thinking with when I won you, William?" she taunted.

His reply was so scrumptiously playful. "Well, it wasn't with my stomach," _so defiantly cocky_ , the way he said it.

"Oh!" she growled, clasping her pillow and thrashing him with it, beating him into submission, William covering himself to the best of his ability to avoid her delightful blows…

Until he overpowered her and stole away her fluffy weapon. His voice in the dark, above her now, both of them out of breath from the play, he said, "I was taken by your beauty, I won't deny it. But, what really won me Julia, so that it changed me down to my soul, was you… your bravery, and your magnificent stubbornness… and kindness, and your ability to see the good and the bad in others and still respect them – still see value in… anyone. If there was only one organ that you won me with Julia, one organ that you stole, it would have to be my heart.

He felt her wrap her arms around him and pull him down closer, felt her search for his ear in the darkness. "Good answer, William," she whispered.

Contented, feeling the call of sleep slipping in around them, they settled there in each other's arms together. William's mind softly tossed tiny memories from the day into his view. Seeing Julia standing next to Enid… sliding into third base… the look on her face when he "swung" his manly bits like a bat. That one rising a giggle in him still. Then he saw his son in his pram, reaching out towards Enid's daughter, Alice, and the image sunk and trumpeted the thought inside him. _William Jr. needed a sibling!_

Julia felt him lying against her in her arms, knew he was drifting off, for there were twitches, and little mumbles, but suddenly there was a change. He tucked his head down towards her. She knew he was listening to her, looking for her.

"What is it William," Julia's voice rose up to him, sounding sleepy.

He shifted them, lulling her to be more awake, brought her back into that intimate place they shared, her head on his chest. Then he breached the topic. "William Jr. really enjoyed being with another baby today, didn't he?" he tugged.

Her silence told him, she knew where he was going with this. He might as well say it directly. "We had been planning to adopt before William Jr…"

Julia popped up to hover above him. "William Murdoch," her voice had an air of playful challenging to it, "Are you telling me you want MORE!?"

 _Delightful_ , she felt him reach up and rub his brow.

She would push. "You do! You do! You aren't satisfied with one baby, one baby that WE made together, William. Such a baby was to be impossible. And now you're telling me that you want more. You want to adopt another child. Another one?" she demanded of him.

He was certain he heard teasing in her voice, and it thrilled him, for it meant she would agree, that she was excited about adopting too. Yet, he was beyond satisfied with their life. "Julia, honestly I never thought it possible to be as happy as I am with you, with William Jr.," he vowed. "But," now his voice had the edge of mischief, "I always told you I wanted one more child than you would agree to. I always told you I would want more."

She laid back down on him, _proof that she was in agreement, he figured._

Her finger traced over his skin. "Yes. Yes. That you did. Oh… and of course, the dog. We can't forget the dog," she conceded, following it up with her wonderful little giggle.

He hugged her closer, tighter, with a squeeze, and kissed her hair in the dark. "Good," he said. His smile tingled the sides of his face. Astounding the awareness, that there was even more happiness. Believing it would be impossible to sleep feeling this energized, the exhaustion of the day took him quickly. He was already sleeping when Julia rolled her face to bring her lips to his skin and she kissed him in the night. She breathed in William's smell. She loved him more than she would ever be able to say. With a deep breath, she offered herself over to the sandman to sprinkle his sandy sleep crystals into her eyes, and she too was swept off.

It had been a remarkable weekend, one they would probably remember for quite some time, and it was all largely due to _**a chance encounter**_.


	28. 28: The Importance of Being Saved

Journal Journeys: The Importance of Being Saved

It was a perfect autumn day, and a Saturday to boot. Halloween was just around the corner and the Murdoch's had been endeavoring to explain some of the holiday's traditions, such as that trick-or-treaters would come to their house, and that people all over the neighborhood would put up scary decorations, to their son, William Jr., who was _almost_ two- _fingers_ old. It was so exciting, because the Murdoch's were having a small Halloween Party, and they all had to wear costumes, including the littlest Murdoch. Julia had planned out the characters they would all be, asking James Pendrick for help getting professionally-made costumes, taking advantage of his connections to people involved with filmmaking. She and William were going to be King Neptune and his wife, Salacia, and William Jr. would be their son, Prince Triton. Julia had already completed making William Jr.'s adorable half-fish costume. Mr. Pendrick would bring their grown-up costumes by the house tomorrow. Since tomorrow was a Sunday, Pendrick would not be coming until the afternoon, after they had all returned from Church. To top this all off, this Halloween, William had become enthused by an idea of his – to make a motion-sensor activated monster for the front of the house.

" _It was probably unavoidable_ ," Julia thought to herself about what they were all doing together out in the backyard, sawing, and painting, and mechanizing… things, and stuffing the fluffy insides of pillows into William's old clothing. " _Inevitable really, once William's booby-trap had worked,"_ she finished the thought.

This "booby-trap" Julia was referring to in her thoughts had been built and set up by William at their body farm because yet another murderer had dumped a body there. It turns out that a reporter who had been trying to fake another body-dumping there for a story had gotten caught in William's trap. Like today's project, that 'booby-trap' had also been designed around being triggered by a motion sensor, much like was William's _'scrutiny camera'_ he had invented, and become famous for, all those years ago.

William stepped back to consider their progress. The wooden frame for the pumpkin-headed, strawman-like monster looked good, and it was working well as a makeshift skeleton around which Julia and the baby were dressing the 'creature' in his old pants and shirt. He sighed momentarily, noticing the mess, sawdust all about, and although Julia's idea to cut open some of their old pillows for the stuffing was brilliant, it had combined with a breezy day to cast about all myriad of feathers and cottony stuff. He sighed and pushed on. _Julia would paint the jack-o'-lantern on the creature's wooden head,_ William planned _._ _After that, he would use the hinges to attach the 'monster' to its platform. Most of the work left for him to do was in the front of the house, rigging up the sensor on their front steps and the ropes that would pull the contraption up to suddenly stand, once activated by someone walking up or down the steps. He had already attached the sound component, a ghastly, evil, laugh he had recorded, that would play just a second after the creature had popped up._

"Do you think you two could be in charge of clean-up after you paint the jack-o'-lantern," he asked, readying to gather up his tools and head to the other side of the house.

Julia paused and perused the scene. _It would be a lot of work_. _But, of course, it had been_ _ **her idea**_ _to let William Jr. have so much fun with the stuffing…_

"I guess that's fair," she answered. She chuckled when he gave her his "I'm sorry" expression combined with his "admitting it" face. _Truth be told, it was a lot of fun_.

William caught her smile, contagious, he widened his eyes at her and, _reminding her of the little boy inside of him_ , and he whispered, "It's so exciting!"

)

Not that much later, the whole Murdoch family got a thrill as they tested out the finished product. William stayed up at the top of the steps and sent Julia, with their son in her arms, down the steps to trigger the monster.

"William," Julia cheered, "It's perfect!" after watching the life-sized manikin popup, seemingly out of nowhere, from behind the bushes, and startle them, the creature's mechanized ghostly laugh the icing on the cake.

"It should scare quite a few of the trick-or-treaters," William agreed.

Julia's manner becoming mischievous, she said, "I'll guess they'll be getting both a _**trick**_ and a treat when they come to the Murdoch's house then, hmm Little One?" She placed their son back down on the ground and encouraged, "Shall we make him pop-up again?" taking his little hand in hers and heading for the steps. She started to tell William, "It's great the way he lays back down after a few…"

 _ **POP!**_ The creature popped up at them again, still managing to spook her enough to stop her from finishing her sentence.

"Scary!" William Jr. said gleefully.

"It is quite… isn't it," his mother agreed, instinctively picking the toddler back up onto her hip again. Standing next to her innovative and remarkable husband once more up on their porch, they all watched the creature lay back down behind the bushes, trap reset for the next poor victim, and she told him, "You've outdone yourself William. It will be the talk of Toronto!" and then she basked in watching William's pride as it became revealed in his smile. _My goodness, her heart skipped a beat, for as always, she was completely floored by this gorgeous man's smile._

"Good," he replied simply, his mouth wrinkling up charmingly at one corner as he admitted to his pride. And then the Murdoch's returned back into the house.

) (

By the time Monday came around, the Murdoch's had become accustomed to the presence of the ' _ **newest Murdoch family member**_.' However Eloise…

The housekeeper had gotten the bejesus scared out of her, shrieking, dropping her bag of groceries all over the steps, and calling out the Lord's name for heavenly help in surviving the attack. Although the older woman had recovered from the ordeal somewhat by the time the Murdoch's came down for breakfast, unfortunately, William had found the fact that his contraption had scared her to be _funny_ , chuckling and gloating about how her fright provided evidence that his invention worked well. He ended up apologizing and feeling bad… _but still, secretly now, a part of him was outright giddy about how well his monster worked._

) (

Now, the Murdoch's nanny, Claire-Marie, she lived in the servant's quarters of the Murdoch house, and she used the side entrance to come and go. However, she tended to take advantage of the inside connection that the detective had built, between the Murdoch's portion of the house and the servant's portion of the house, whenever she needed to get into her employers' home to take care of their son, William Jr. Thus, Claire-Marie was taken by surprise later that day when she had dressed up little William Jr. in his jacket to take him to go play in the park, and they headed out.

 _Truly a brilliant invention_ , the monster popped up just like it was supposed to as Claire-Marie and William Jr. stepped past the motion sensor on the front steps. The problem was, it absolutely terrified the nanny, who screamed bloody murder, jumped a good six-feet to the side and down to the bottom of the steps, the whole while grabbing hold of poor little William Jr. and flinging him up to her chest and then barreling, faster than she ever thought her legs could carry her, twenty feet down their front path, until she finally stopped and turned back around to see what had scared her so. By then, William Jr., too, had become scared out of his little wits, and now the child was out-and-out wailing at the top of his lungs.

Once Eloise made it to the front door to help, having heard the commotion from the kitchen and figuring out what must have happened, Claire-Marie and the baby were already out of sight. The housekeeper stood on the front porch and listened, hearing no more crying from the baby, she decided that Claire-Marie must have managed to calm the child back down and then the two of them had just kept going on their way to the park as planned.

) (

Back home a few hours later, after Claire-Marie had sat in the kitchen having some lunch with William Jr., and she had gotten a chance to talk out **the problem** with Eloise, she decided to take the older woman's advice and call the detective. She had finally gotten the toddler to fall asleep for his nap – _thank goodness for that little stuffed rabbit, Blanco_ – and now Claire-Marie found herself standing in the foyer trying to get up the nerve to dial the phone. She watched her finger poke into the hole of the phone and spin the dial. It released, and once she had started, she was able to make herself finish dialing the detective's number.

"Detective, sir, um, it's Claire-Marie," she started, her anxiety un-hideable, it seemed.

"Yes sir. I'm so sorry to bother you at work… Yes, um… Detective, I see you made a Halloween monster of sorts near the front steps, and, um… well, sir, um… I, well it scared me when I was taking William Jr. to the park…"

"That's alright… Thank you sir, I, um, I figured out it was just another invention of yours. It's quite a good one, actually…"

"The problem, yes, well, it did frighten me, um badly, and I'm afraid I… it seems that it terrified William Jr. quite seriously. So much so that when we returned home from the park, I couldn't get him to go past it. I couldn't get him to go up the steps, sir. Even after I explained to him that it was just a machine, like a big toy, that you had made for Halloween, and that it wasn't real, and I even tried picking him up, to carry him up the steps, but he just got so upset, I couldn't do it. I couldn't put him through that much distress. I'm so sorry. I um, I took him into the house through the side door, by the laundry closet… and, um, well I thought you should know."

"No, he's sleeping now… Yes. Thank you, sir, I'm so sorry… Thank you detective. Yes. Until then… Thanks again," she rushed to get in one more, "I'm sorry," before the call disconnected, telling herself in her head to _stop apologizing, the man had heard her_. She hung up the phone. Quickly, her mind played an awful fantasy, showing herself the extent of her fears, that _William Jr. would never go in or out the front door of the house for the rest of his life._ She took a deep breath and told herself _it wasn't really her fault. Anybody would have been scared to death of that thing. After all, it had scared Eloise too_. _Phew_ , she blew out a blast of air, lowering the pressure in her head. She reminded herself that the Murdoch's were one of the fairest couples she had ever known, that they wouldn't blame her, that her job with them, and she did so love this job, was safe. _Eloise was right_ , she was glad she had called.

) (

Under his breath, William pulled William Jr.'s bedroom door, touching it to the frame, leaving the smallest sliver of light shining through the thin crack into the sleeping toddler's room. He stepped deeper into the hallway, paused there to soak in the look at her waiting for him, only the light from their opened bedroom door behind her, silhouetting her, exaggerating her shape, perfect, sexy, hourglass curves, and those tempting, dangling wisps of her hair, catching the light like fluttery feathers. Such longing to catch one, caress it in his fingers. He stepped up to her, watched one of the wispy morsels dance as his breath ruffled it, and he reached up and took what he wanted, tenderly, held and rolled the delicate hairs bundled together in it, twisted and fiddled with them between his fingers. When he spoke to her, the words warm, melted into her, _this man's voice the one_ , the one that rang true in her soul, the tones of him, the rhythm of him, the scent of him, thoroughly unlocked her.

"The house is secured for the night, our son sleeping, safe and sound, and I just wanted to tell you," his head leaned closer, his voice even lower with the closeness, "You are wonderful, Julia. You are absolutely wonderful."

They kissed there in the hallway, slow, romantic, letting the wave of their passion come to them, build under them, lift them, rush them, until it raged in their cores and there was nothing else in the world but completing their touch.

Julia regained control first, realizing they were both still clothed, reminding herself that their lovemaking only improved with a bit of push and pull, and so she broke off their kiss.

 _My God, when their eyes met, the attraction so strong._

She swallowed, preparing to explain herself, to fill the void she'd made. She noticed his chest heaving so scrumptiously at the lower edge of her periphery, relighting the fuse running directly to the tingly wrenching in her womb.

Julia's eyes dropped downward, centered in on his tie. "Ahem, Mr. Murdoch, why is it that hours after we have been home, you are still wearing this tie?" her seductive tone teased at him.

Pure magic ensued as Julia watched his face, her fingers stroking up the long, silky tie, to the knot at his neck, and she tucked a finger into its weakest point, and began to loosen it. William was _highly_ aroused, she saw it in his clenched jaw, the look serious, and verging on anger, and she knew that inside of him he was somersaulting and spinning in the lure, resisting, lusciously resisting. She felt an upsurge in her body as his expression changed to playful, cocky even – _she loved it so when William Murdoch got cocky_ – and she knew he was going to return her banter… But then, suddenly, his eyes bonded to hers for the briefest second, widening, opening, he was falling and drawing her in, pulling her down, with a rush, and then his eyes darted away, and a golden, hot, rosy hue blushed his beautiful face, and puzzlement fascinated her brain. _She_ _ **itched**_ _to know what had embarrassed him so._

 _So lovely, this man,_ and she pushed him, "What were you going to say, William? I have to know."

His breath deep, pressured, yet yielding, before he cleared his throat and he confided, "Perhaps… ahem," his throat suddenly so terribly dry, _unsteady_ , "Perhaps because I'm waiting… hoping, it would be _**you**_ who would… take it off."

 _The satisfaction, the surge of sexual juices deep inside of her, flooding and oozing and warming her insides, deluging outward from the core… utter_ _ **wanting**_.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" she taunted, as she grabbed his tie assertively, and tugged it as if it were his leash, taking him with her as she backed, alluringly, their eyes holding, unblinking, into their bedroom.

It was William who managed to close the door, every intention of using its solid surface later as _the place, the place where she would succumb to him._ Abandoned fury took them in the need, the hurried anticipation, to get the other's clothing off. Buttons, grommets and hooks, the buttons at the ends of William's shirt cuffs, socks too, _definitely, despite the rush_ …

Drumming, flaring, up and down, up and down, again and again, so fast, the hurried tempo of their chests, roaring hot breath rampaging out of them both, out, in surge, after surge, after surge, hearts so rapid, pumping every spec of oxygen to their desperate inner cores, dizzying the brain…

They paused, felt the magnetism float them, now entirely revealed before the other, each making themselves wait for that timeless, hovering, second.

Julia broke it, reached up to the wall beside her, her eyes to his, found the light switch, clicked it off. The darkness drenching in from their edges as the speed of the fall plummeted…

And he felt her, _on him,_ lips so close, whispering their secret wish, "Have your way with me, William. Have your way with me."

 _The black so stark, eyes not adjusted, no moon tonight. Can't breathe. Heart thumping so that it threatens to burst in the chest, rumbles in the ears. Her kiss. Sensual, sensual touches, and smells, and breaths, and creamy kisses interspersed with those familiar tiny 'ticks' sounding in the lush air around them, so succulent as each kiss broke off, and then another broke off again and another… Mmm, the taste of her_.

Julia ran her hands all over him, down his well-built chest, stomach, behind him… _Oh yes, delicious, the behind of him_ , Lower, lower – and then her mind played the devastating image, as she found the hunky muscles of him, firm and strong in her grasp, and her mind saw _his potent, wild, primal thrusting into her, as it would soon be._ And then it flashed so quickly, the memory of the first time she had ever seen the "bicycle detective," _well, his backside really_ , as he stepped into a carriage to meet her at their first crime scene together, and then she wondered at the fate of the universe, for now those same gorgeous haunches would power his love into _her_... and she sunk heavy in his arms, and moaned and whimpered, and her breath caught with the agony of the yearning and she pleaded his name.

' _Bam,'_ her back slammed hard against the closed door, rugged, William's manner when the time came. Each of them striving to get closer, to reach the crescendo, each drop of themselves poured into the other, utterly crushing, with the ultimate rupture. And she was crying from the moment the pleasure of him _finally, finally_ , pressed into her, squeezing and pushing in deeper and deeper into her, seizing her womb so tightly she became overwrought, each heavenly thrust killing her, _so, so, so deliciously,_ this man.

And he tasted her saltiness, dawning his awareness of her tears, with the swallow that immediately followed his climax, the instinctive need to moisten his throat the result of his strained efforts to get enough air, to survive the thundering racing of his heart, and he knew she was crying, as she did sometimes, and he held her in his arms, with her long, luscious legs wrapped around his hips, and she hugged him tight, with all her might, yet weakly, because of the impact of the tremendous consummation as well as the spilling over of her efforts to touch him so deeply, and he found his way to the bed in their darkened room, and he laid her down gently onto their marital bed, his weight, guarding her and protecting her, sturdy, on top of her, and he promised her, in the dark, tenderly into her ear, enhancing its sincerity, that she would have his love forever, and they rolled over and laid together, her on top of him, letting the world's ripples and swirls slow, and settle.

Julia reveled in the hammering of his heart and those huge, rapid, breaths that were robustly heaving her up and down, and, she waited with him, as their internal rushing quieted, and after a time, they engaged in pillow talk.

William had been replaying it over and over in his mind, their carrying out of their plan to help William Jr. get over being scared of the 'monster' by the front steps. They had taken the little toddler out into the backyard, and reminded him that they had all been out there this weekend, making _Daddy's toy._ It had helped the tiny child hold onto the knowledge that it wasn't a _**real**_ monster. Even better, they took him out to the porch and showed him the wooden, pillowy-stuffed creature lying on the ground behind the bushes, and the rope that would pull him up, and the box with the 'scary voice,' all before his Daddy walked down the steps and triggered the motion sensor and made it popup while William Jr. and his mother watched from the porch. And then William stood down at the bottom of the steps and asked his little son, "What's going to happen now?" And the little boy had answered, shouting it out because he was so excited in already knowing, "It goes back down!" In the end, William Jr. had been able to go up and down the steps – ALL BY HIMSELF – after that, and not be scared.

In the dark, William's fingers still fiddling with her curls, their more calloused skin glancing so delightfully across her tender ear. He cleared his throat, drawing her attention, and William said, "William Jr. seemed to rise to the occasion, I thought," musing aloud, "He got over it pretty quickly, don't you think?"

"You mean our little son managed to get over his Daddy's ghoulish and cruel innovation scaring him silly?" she poked at him. _She agreed though, their plan had worked well. And she instantly regretted re-triggering his guilt._

"Julia," he complained, _before she could backpedal_ , "I feel bad enough."

He felt her nestle deeper into him, her arm hugged him tighter, reassuring him. "Life presents challenges, William. It's our job to help our son learn how to overcome those challenges. I think we did that today," Julia confided.

Quiet for a moment, Julia added, "Besides, it's important to be saved sometimes, too, especially when you're so young."

William's fingers moved down, rubbed and stroked across the silky-smoothness of her shoulder as he asked, "Like when we saved William Jr. from the geese in the park, when they were terrifying and crowding and pecking at him as they tried to take his bag of caramel popcorn?"

"Yes," she answered, "Although I must say, it was surely more you who saved him than me, but yes, that's exactly what I mean." She took a deep breath, thinking. "I would argue, that it was _because of_ that event with the geese that had happened not so long ago, that we were able to so easily help him get over his fear today…"

"Certainly not in the same way," William interjected.

Julia agreed, "No, no. We didn't rush in and save him _**while**_ he was being terrified like we did then. No…"

Then William added, "And he didn't even use what we taught him to do him back then, fight back, make a lot of noise, get big and flap things about. According to Claire-Marie, after she swept him up, admittedly, herself, incredibly frightened…"

"Which I'm sure severely added to William Jr.'s distress," Julia inserted, explaining, "When we're not around, _she's_ his adult, she and Eloise, they're the ones he depends on."

She felt William breathe, accepting it. "Of course, you're right, her being so terrified is likely why he got as frightened as he did."

Julia found her train of thought again, "And, that's why I think it was so important that he had been saved before. That he had _**that memory**_ to rely on when he went back to confront the same scary situation with the monster again later, with us."

What was brewing in Julia's mind was complicated and confusing, but she sensed it was very important, and they stayed quiet together a bit longer as she tried to figure out how to explain it. _It had to do with what it_ _ **feels like**_ _to be a dependent, mostly helpless, child, and then having parents care for you, and the profound effect such experiences have on the way one comes to understand their world, to BE in the world, as a result of that. And it somehow all got tangled up with her recent reflections on what she had learned from Freud back when she was in Vienna, about transference, and a dream she had had relatively recently, in which her father suddenly became William…_ She almost surprised herself when she was the one who broke the silence, for she had not yet fully gathered her thoughts.

"William," she said, her contemplative mood weighty in the darkness. "I've been reflecting a lot lately, ever since when we argued… after that meeting at Baker House with the adoption committee… when you interrupted me…" She paused, waited for his nod.

"Mm," he signaled that he was with her, _the memory of the encounter still leaving a bad taste in his mouth, and that taste, thankfully, dissipating with the memory of their working it out._

"And then I had that dream, and… and in it my father turned into you, after I had hit him in the dream, and I… I just have been thinking about all the parallels between my adult relationship with you, and my childhood relationship with my father," she went on.

Julia almost giggled, feeling William reach up and rub his brow. _True, this could certainly be an uncomfortable thing to talk about._ She wanted to reassure him, felt a little panic take her own chest, but she told herself to keep going, he would see what she was getting at, it would be alright. She took a slow, deep breath, listened, felt, waited, to see if he would follow suit. He did.

"One of the things my father, who certainly was prickly, and in some ways quite hurtful, but one of the ways my father was _good_ was that he saved me when I was little. He swooped in from nowhere and protected me from danger, probably more times than I can even remember…" She went off on a tangent, shaking her head with doubt, "For instance, I'm not even sure whether William Jr. will even remember the incident with the geese when he's older," she considered.

 _Now, this was becoming interesting,_ and William shifted, rolled a bit towards her, and Julia repositioned herself, propping her elbow down into the mattress and holding her chin in her hand, hoping and straining to be able to see him better in the dark. _Irresistible_ , she stroked his chest as she continued.

"The most heroic time I remember, I was older than William Jr., probably three or four," she began her story. "We had a neighbor who bred show dogs, and he had lots of big dogs that he kept in kennels on his property. And he invited me to come see the dogs. And, you know, truthfully, I don't really know what exactly happened, but he must have let some of them out for me to pet them, I guess, and for some reason or another, I got really scared. I think one of them jumped up on me and scared the dickens out of me, and I took off like a bullet trying to get away, and all those dogs took up chase after me. I remember hearing the man scream after me, the dogs in pursuit, warning me not to run… But those words… they just were not even possible, I was so scared. I jumped up a tree, scrambled as fast as I could upward, and I felt the dogs jumping and I heard the chomping, and growling and barking below me. And then, William, my father was just _there_ …" She paused, took a shallow breath, "I was in his arms, not in the tree. He was holding me high, and tight, and kicking those dogs away… And he saved me William. It was like a miracle, he hadn't even been home from his practice, at least I didn't think he had been, when I went over to the neighbor's kennel. The neighbor's property was just on the other side of the bottom of our driveway. And my father had been in a carriage, coming home from work, and he must have seen me over in the neighbor's yard, and he must have somehow known I was about to get chased, and that I was in danger of being bitten, and mauled, and I swear William, maybe even killed. How could my father have known? But he must have been worried, because he had jumped out of the moving cab, his doctor's bag left right out in the middle of the street later, the carriage driver having to pull up right there, and then wait to press to get paid after the whole ordeal was over…"

 _Phew_ , she realized she needed to take a breath.

William reached his fingers under her chin, pausing her with his touch, catching her eyes just a bit in the dark. "My father did much the same thing with me when I was still in short pants," William gave. "In my case, it was at my aunt's farm, the same one Susana and I went to after my mother died…" William let the memory sharpen in his mind, felt the sadness of it, and the abandonment, then honed in on the earlier memory. "We were visiting. I was five or so. My mother was still alive… and I wandered into the horse pen. I loved horses, but, once I was in there, and they were so big, and, somehow I got knocked over and the hooves were everywhere, and I screamed like a banshee, and just like in your story, Harry was there, wholly out of nowhere, he was in the pen, picking me up out of the muck, saving me," he exhaled, the pressure needing to lessen, _somehow reminding himself that it wasn't happening right now, that he was fine._ "I guess that's how William Jr. felt when I picked him up from the middle of the assailing gang of geese," he thought aloud.

"Yes," she agreed, "Exactly." Julia slipped her leg over him, wanting so much to be closer. Her fingers found his face, tenderly she cupped his cheek, stroked his jaw. Her tone intimate, tingling him to alert, she wisely said, "I had never felt more IMPORTANT to anyone in my life than I did in that moment when my father saved me…"

And William got it in that instant, _a chill running through him with the impact of it,_ stuck somewhere between gasping with awe, and being stunned and unable to breathe at all.

Julia went on, "It gave me a sense of being valuable, and not alone, and when I walked around in the world, I _**knew**_ I was important." She leaned into him, kissed his cheek. She would connect it now, her ramblings.

"Only since you, William, have I felt anything stronger," she told him.

His heart heard the significance of it, resonating, vibrating to life, their connection, his love for her, hers for him, it struck the perfect note in him.

And then she thought of it – her journal. She remembered it so clearly. Sneaking to hide her writing in it from Darcy, after she had been buried alive, and William had saved her.

She whispered it to him, "William, I'd like to share something from my journal," she said.

"That sounds lovely," he answered her.

She felt him move, the mattress bustle about as he reached in the dark for the light. The lamplight was warm and soft, waking the eyes. Her journal was with his, in his night table drawer. He pulled it out and handed it to her. They both propped up together on his pillow, and she rested down on his chest, held out the journal on his stomach so he could see it too. She found the page quickly. The writing was quite long, went all the way past the next page, and she remembered the writing of it, the memories affecting her deeply, the feelings of being back there, back then, soaking in through her chest. She told him, before she started to read it, "This was the night after James Gillies had buried me alive, and you had saved me… I had started to have a recurring nightmare, um, any time I fell asleep." And then she read him the words from that time, so long ago, her voice low, and near, and private, and honest, just for him, only between them, sharing secrets between lovers.

 **I just had to write it down, I had to get it out. Intolerable, all these emotions, overwhelming, nauseating, debilitating, always, always, I can't breathe. And they take me completely, the terror, the profound sadness, the sense of loss, and the tiny, tiny, invisible, ray of hope in the absolute, sweaty, vomitus blackness. Because…**

 **I guess I had to write it down because these emotions crush me, and I will surely explode from their intensity and tumultuousness, but there is this other thing… And I fear this must be the biggest secret of all, and it's so odd the way the physical description of it is so much the same as the descriptions of the disastrous emotions from the trauma of being buried alive, like the panic and the dread… descriptions of how it feels, like dizzying, and breathless, floaty, and helplessly flung and falling, but the one is magnificent, and the other is hideous… Oh, but that magnificent feeling… I wonder, dare I even write it?**

 **I must, or I will burst. For I know now. I know…** _ **HE**_ **loves me. Why it took** _ **this**_ **? Why a monster could see it while I could not, I do not know… but now, I will never unknow it.** _ **HE**_ **loves me, and the joy of that soars me to the sky and plummets me back to the Earth in the same breathless, luminous, moment of knowing it.**

 **At first, all the screaming and the crying and the fighting it, the fighting of death, the screaming for…** _ **HIM**_ **until my throat gave out… and then, the blinding silence, once the shoveling sounds stopped, and I confronted dying a vile death, drowned in stifling, nauseating fear. And I cried for myself, for a time.**

 **And then I imagined it,** _ **HIM**_ **finding this grave, finding me dead inside of it, and I sobbed away half my oxygen imagining his agony, and then, right then, when I imagined his pain and grief, and his sorrowful screams collapsing him down to his knees unable to bear it, and I knew… I knew he loved me more than anything, more than anyone, in the world, and he would be devastated, destroyed, demolished, by this. And then all of a sudden, I noticed that the dreadful silence was gone, almost like a soft orchestra telling me what would happen next, telling its premonition in my ears, soothing and surging my heart, for** _ **HE**_ **would be looking, I knew he would be looking, and he was the brightest, best, man I had ever known, and there was a good chance** _ **HE**_ **would find me,** _ **HE**_ **could do that, pull off a miracle like that, and I had to survive as long as possible to give him that chance. Odd, but I needed to survive for** _ **HIM**_ **.**

 **Darcy crossed my mind, guilt flooded. "** _ **He would not be devastated,**_ **" I heard myself know there in that coffin. No, no, not him, but…** __

 **Dare I write it? Dare I write** _ **HIS**_ **name here?** _ **HE**_ **, the one true love of my life, the one I will likely never have as my own,** _ **HE**_ **would have been thoroughly shattered by this.**

 **And then, as I was trapped, left to die there in the deep, dank ground, I knew, I knew I had to tell him, somehow, in case he didn't make it in time, he had to know that I knew how he felt. But it was such a dilemma for me, for it would take up oxygen, leaving him the note. But I wrote it. And now I know that no one will ever see it, not** _ **HIM**_ **, nor the man I legally gave the right to mourn me with my bad choice to marry him, no one, for** _ **HE**_ **did save me. And so, it remains there, the note I wrote to him, with my earring in the black, cramped, space of the coffin, carved in the wood of my ceiling, not more than two inches above my nose. I wrote it. Tried to use as few words as possible…**

" **You love me, tried your best, I know. I did not die alone, because of you."**

 **It was halfway through carving it, part of me worrying that my limited space was making me write the new words right on top of the earlier ones, when suddenly… it was so strange, but, I could breathe better, I swear it. And it was because I was certain that HE WOULD FIND ME, that he** _ **would**_ **come, that he** _ **would**_ **save me. I don't know how, but I knew it, as solidly as I knew he loved me and I loved him. Embarrassing now, but it was as if it was meant to be, that fate would not let me die until he knew that I knew about his love for me.**

 **And so, now, I try to sleep next to a man I do not love and who does not love me. And I am exhausted, and I finally drift off. And, repeatedly, I have the nightmare,** _ **and with it the dream come true**_ **. And I always wake up calling his name…** _ **HIS**_ **name, there in our bed. Not for the first time, this particular problem of mine, of calling out** _ **this man's name**_ **from a dream, but it's with so much more emotion now, life and death, so very, very important that** _ **HE**_ **hear me, the need unstoppable now.**

 **I have decided will tell him, so he knows that I know. I don't know what will happen after that, but I know now, that is what I lived for.**

Julia closed the flower-covered journal, not a word, contemplative. She handed it to him to return it to its place, and he clicked off the light.

Somehow, the darkness prompted her to share more with him, her voice just on the edge of a whisper, "It was the writing of that passage, the reflecting in it, that helped me decide that, absolutely, I had to go see you, William... to tell you how I had known you would come. You needed to know how it was _you_ , my utter and astounding faith in _you_ , that had been my hope, while buried there six-feet under the dirt in that coffin in that grave…" and with those words the intrusive memories seeped in. "So dark. I'd never seen such blackness, William, to the point that it stung my eyes from the straining of trying to find the slimmest light, and it was sickly humid, it was so disgusting, surrounded by my own stink, each breath killing me, my sweat…" Julia shook her head, not because she was denying it, for she had accepted the entire horrible ordeal wholly, but rather because she had found, while living it, that with her going through these repugnant things, something so different from that horribleness had happened, something profound and beautiful, and the magic of that confounded her, and so she shook her head because it was unfathomable yet true. "I knew, so firmly, so solidly, that you would come save me because you were _**already**_ there, William. You would always be there with me, you would always care about me, worry about me, _**more than anyone**_ ," she said, her voice taking on that emotional squeak that completely seized his soul, "I knew, even if I had died, I knew I wasn't alone. I knew then that I would never, ever, be alone, ever again, because you loved me, William, because you loved me the way you did…"

"The way I do," he corrected, "The way I do," he added with a kiss, taking in the smell of her, cherishing the treasure of her.

"Yes," she agreed, "The way you do."

She waxed poetic then, saying, "It's like a shadow, having someone love you like that, having them love you so much that they become a part of you, like your mother did, even like your father did, when you were a tiny child, like we are to William Jr., and then…" Here she paused, her voice choked up, "And I never knew this William, but now, now I know it's true, it's like _**we**_ are to each other, now, too, it's like a shadow, but even better. That person that loves you, so completely, is there with you even when life is at its darkest, you are not alone. That's how it's better than a shadow, because you don't need light to have it… You always have it. They're with you, just like you were with me in that grave, and I am with you, no matter what, because you are a part of me, I am a part of you, and so," she concluded, taking a breath first, tears filling her eyes, "That's why I say that it's important, being saved…"

Suddenly reaching the end of her thought, she felt vulnerable in the light of it. Until he said,

"Sounds wise," and he pulled her closer.

She nestled into him, heard the thumps of his heart, became captured by its slowing and calming, _his breaths like ocean waves lapping the shore, lifting and dropping her… so lovely…_

Then, reassuring Julia that he definitely felt better about his invention, and its having led to such trouble with their precious son, William said, into the darkness, just before she had yielded to sleep, "I think, next year, I'll make some more automated monsters, maybe _many_ more. Perhaps we could make a whole 'haunted house,' hmm?" he asked her, elaborating further, "a type of fun house, but full of ghosts and ghouls and such…"

 _She felt she might have responded to him with an "Mmm."_

The last thought in her head, already feeling those exquisite ripples in space-time rocking her off to sleep _, was that she had married a dreamer, and even more astounding, so many of those dreams had ended up, will end up, coming true._

)) ((


End file.
